


Some Tumultuous Sea

by iwtv



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Gambling Addiction, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurricanes, James attempts to fight said hurricane, M/M, Sexual Assault, Suicidal Tendencies, because it's James, canon divergence after season 2, lots of gambling, panick attacks, sea turtle hunting/animal death, sex in lots of different places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate to pay off gambling debts, Jacob Lewis is looking for a crew to join. A single encounter with James Flint seems trivial, but when their paths keep crossing James is forced to confront his fears head on and must decide to be or not to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Tumultuous Sea

Lying, thinking  
Last night  
How to find my soul a home  
Where water is not thirsty  
And bread loaf is not stone  
I came up with one thing  
And I don't believe I'm wrong  
That nobody,  
But nobody  
Can make it out here alone.

\-- Maya Angelou, “Alone”

 

 

“Excuse me, are you Captain Flint?”

James Flint looked up from the depths of the mug of ale in front of him. He was met by a youngish, ash blonde man with brown eyes, one eyebrow raised as he awaited an answer to his question. Flint didn’t answer him but instead raised the mug to lips, eyes still staring at him. The man gave a taut smile.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Flint frowned. “Can I help you?”

Aside from the drink on the table in front of him, he wasn’t in the mood for company tonight.

The man quickly sat down across from him, looking much more comfortable once he was no longer standing awkwardly in front of the captain.

“I was told I could find Captain Lawrence’s men in here,” he began. Flint heard a slight Irish accent to his words. “I’m new here and alas, I’ve not yet met most of them,” he finished, eyes darting from Flint to the rest of the tavern around them, where about two dozen other souls were enjoying their evening in various stages of drunkenness. The nosiest, crudest of them were naturally gathered around the bar, roaring dirty jokes and bits of gossip in each other’s faces while taking shots of rum. After years of practice Flint had learned to tune them out, and anyway most of them avoided the aloof captain.

Even the more gentlemanly pirates who did not get roaring drunk sensed there was something different about Flint; he came and he drank but he rarely partook in the merriment that came naturally to most of them. The sharp edged look in his eyes never fully disappeared, even when, on occasion, Captain Vane or another brave soul sat with him.

So it was strange and rather funny to Flint that this man was now attempting to chit-chat with him with absolutely no idea who Flint was. Flint pointed a finger to the bar, where the roaring drunks were.

“Those three in the center there are Lawrence’s. Now if you don’t mind I’d rather drink alone,” he said gruffly.

The blonde turned his attention from Lawrence’s men back to Flint, look of distaste on his face.

“Damn unruly, they are. Since I’m not drinking at all, might I join you? You would still be drinking alone,” he added, grinning at Flint and throwing a leg up on the table as though the jest were actually funny. Flint had to keep his jaw from coming unhinged in utter shock. What a brave little shit!

“Get your fucking leg off the table,” he replied, letting the menace coat his voice. The blonde took one look at Flint’s face and quickly complied, grin dissolving.

“Apologies. I see you truly are not in the mood. A pity, because while I do thank you for pointing those apes out to me I was also intending to buy you a drink.”

The man had lost the clownish attitude and was now looking at Flint with purpose now, brow raised. It took a moment before Flint allowed himself to consider what this man was after. He let a slow smirk spread across his lips as he took another drink. He shook his head and smirked some more when the other man continued to look at him expectantly, biting his lower lip.

“Well?” he finally asked.

“Well what?” said Flint. “I told you, I’m drinking alone. There are plenty of whores over at the brothel for that. Or do you need me to point that out as well? It will be the crowded building with the half-naked women hanging over the balcony.”

The man smiled at him, not seeming to mind the little barb.

“But that wasn’t a denial, then. Interesting,” he replied.

Flint sneered at him for having pegged his sexuality. No use in denying it now. He leaned over the table and locked eyes with the blonde.

“If you don’t leave, I will get up and throw you out of this fucking place, and no one will lift a finger against me, understand?”

He had meant it to sound as menacing as before yet Flint found he did not entirely want this very interesting conversation to end so soon. The other man’s grin came back for a split second before he stood and looked down at Flint, face a mask now. He gave a polite bow.

“Thank you for your time, captain. I’ll be on my way now. There are rooms upstairs, yes? I believe I’ll retire to one of them for the evening.”

Once again Flint was surprised as the blonde walked around the table to Flint’s side and discreetly brushed his hand over Flint’s bare arm, fingers going against the flow of Flint’s coppery hair. That, at least, caused Flint to sit up as the man breezed on by, not looking back on his way to pay the inn keep for a room. 

Flint found himself smiling, half amused and half intrigued. He watched as the blonde paid the inn keep and the inn keep pointed upstairs to a row of eight doors. Now the blonde did look over his shoulder, directly at Flint, as he topped the stairs and made for the second door to the right. Flint quickly looked away but cursed under his breath. The little shit figured he’d be watching.

Flint finished the rest of the ale and sighed. He should return to his ship docked in the harbor and go to bed in the cabin. He didn’t have time for this foolishness, especially when he and the crew were awaiting word of a potential prize. They had been in New Providence for just over a month and naturally the men had gone through most of their earnings from the last ship they had captured.

Only a couple handfuls of the men aside from Flint himself knew how to manage their earnings and to hold on to some of it without giving into the many temptations all around them. While it was true most pirates didn’t see much point in saving their coin—they knew their lives were probably going to be short and brutal—some of them, like Flint, were looking towards the bigger picture.

Flint’s mind wondered away from the men and back to the upstairs. The blonde was attractive—and just then Flint realized he hadn’t even given his name. Not only was he handsome but he seemed intelligent as well, a gift that Flint appreciated much more these days, away from the civilized world.

Cursing to himself again, he rose from the table, waving away a barmaid’s attempts to refill his mug and ignoring the roaring drunks as he passed them at the bar. One of them fell out of his stool and landed with a heavy thud in Flint’s wake. Flint didn’t even bother turning.

He languidly made his way up the stairs, taking care to glance around at all of the tavern’s customers to make certain no one was particularly interested in his actions. No one was. The hour was growing late and all the two dozen or so faces he saw were otherwise dulled with drink or fixated on the whores who danced in their laps. Flint stopped and put his hand over the handle to the second door on the right and turned. It was unlocked.

He quickly stepped inside and shut it softly behind him. The room was small and mostly bare, with the bed in the center, a small table beside it upon which sat a bowl and pitcher, and a whitewashed dresser in the corner. The walls were peeling after years in the tropical heat but otherwise the room appeared clean and tidy. The blonde was sitting on the bed, leaning casually up against its headboard, fully clothed, when Flint came in.

He smiled at Flint and got up, offering Flint his hand.

“Jacob Lewis, at your, ah, service,” he said, grin turning cocky. Flint frowned and shook his hand, not sure if he liked Jacob Lewis or not, aside from his physical features. He was a cocky son of a bitch, after all.

“James Flint,” Flint replied gruffly.

“Well Mr. Flint, what ever shall we do?” asked Jacob in feigned innocence, very slowly licking his lips as his eyes travelled up and down Flint’s person. Despite Jacob’s smugness Flint’s groin happily responded to the attention and Flint decided that yes, Jacob had captured enough of his intrigue to make this worth his while.

Flint undid his belt and trousers and nodded at Jacob.

“Suck me off,” he said plainly.

Now it was Jacob’s turn to look surprised. “Not exactly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, but I suppose I’ve heard worse from much less attractive men. Some things from even less attractive women…”

“Shut up and do it,” said Flint, growing impatient. He rubbed at his crotch which responded in kind and pulled out his cock. As soon as Jacob’s eyes fell to it he did shut up and licked his lips again. He lowered himself to his knees.

“Yes sir,” he said eagerly, grabbing either side of Flint’s ass. Flint’s cock twitched at both the contact and Jacob’s lips, which Flint decided were quite full and lovely and would probably feel…

“Unhh.”

The soft moan escaped Flint’s throat as Jacob’s mouth wrapped itself around his cock. He did it slowly and smoothly, pushing his mouth halfway over Flint’s member before pulling off and repeating the motion. His tongue wiggled around the underside of Flint’s shaft. Flint relaxed some more and threw his head back, eyes closed to better savor the feeling.

Jacob slid further down his cock, nearly to his balls. Flint let him pull on his scrotum with a hand, sending sharper waves of pleasure through him. A strangled moan escaped from Jacob, who was moving ever faster over Flint’s cock. Flint groaned louder now, his cock aching for release. He gripped Jacob’s long, wavy blonde hair and pulled, eliciting a groan of pain. He loosened his grip but barely, forcing Jacob to move faster as Flint felt the familiar explosion coming. He released his seed inside Jacob’s mouth, who took it all, licking and sucking until Flint was completely emptied and grew limp again.

Jacob then undid his own pants, though instead of the same treatment Flint roughly grabbed his member and began jerking him off. Jacob gasped, feeling himself coming too quickly to the edge yet unable to slow down Flint’s frantic rhythm. Flint’s eyes stayed fixed on Jacob’s cock as he pulled at the swollen head. Jacob shot into the other man’s hand in a few minutes. Flint cleaned himself off, looking neither disappointed nor pleased.

When they were through Flint unceremoniously fixed his trousers and put his belt back on. He nodded to Jacob, whose eyes were still lidded and lips swollen. Amazingly Flint’s cock twitched at the sight. But tonight was over for him.

He left the room without so much as a good-bye and went down the stairs, satisfied over the unexpected encounter but ready to get back to business as soon as possible.

 

“But surely you must be in need of something.”

Jacob followed on Captain Lawrence’s heels away from Main Street and towards the warehouses.

“Look lad, you said you’re a barrel maker and a what?”

“A striker,” said Jacob confidently. “Sea turtles, manatees, even sharks.”

“All well and fine,” said Lawrence as Jacob hurried to walk beside him. “But I’ve never had a need of a striker. What about cannons? I’ve need of a master gunner.”

Jacob’s face fell. “No, sorry. I was a midshipman before, so while I did learn about loading a cannon…”

Lawrence stopped and turned to face Jacob. As soon as the blonde saw the look of sympathy on the portly captain’s face he knew it was no use.

“Lewis, you’re best off re-joining a legitimate crew. I’d suggest you find a way to get to Port Royal. Plenty of English ships there.”

“Thank you,” mumbled Jacob. He turned and left with a sigh. He’d been here for nearly three weeks looking for a crew to join and so far he’d failed, though not for lack of trying. Lawrence had told him most of Nassau’s regular pirates were out hunting; his and Flint’s had been the only two crews of note Jacob had wanted to join.

“Looks like I’ll have to consider the bottom of the barrel,” he mumbled to himself as he trekked back to Main Street and to look out at the docks. Most of what was there were smaller pirate sloops. These crews were much smaller in size, and he knew he’d last not long at all on one, not with his particular inclinations.

Jacob dug into the pouch slung across his waist and pulled out his remaining reales. He had a few of them and one doubloon. He clutched the doubloon and headed off to the far eastern shore of the beach, where men who shared his inclinations were gathered. It was a gambling area. Jacob stood with a small crowd for a few moments, watching three men play dice and discerning their dispositions before joining in.

When Jacob left the game, it was without his doubloon and a lot of shouting behind him.

“You’ve got until nightfall, you swab, or I’ll come lookin’ for ya!” the winner called out after him. “And I know every ship anchored so don’t trying nothin’ either!”

Jacob had assured him that he would receive his second doubloon and had stood his ground despite the man’s companions eyeing him as though they would just as gladly have pummeled him to the ground themselves.

***

“Bugger.”

Jacob sat down at the tavern. The sun was just now beginning its descent down and already he needed a drink.

“Need a bit of cheerin’ up?”

Jacob turned his head to the beautiful tart who had taken notice of him. She shimmied up to him, red and black skirt short and revealing a pale but perfectly smooth leg underneath.

Jacob grinned. “Just a bit of cheer, love. Not quite ready for a proper dance yet.”

The black-haired beauty smiled and took his mug from his hand. Her green eyes watched him as she tipped it and took a drink.

“No problem. It’s slow now anyways. Still, I’ll need a proper coin or two.”

Jacob patted the pouch at his waist. “Never fear. But I’d rather talk, is that all right?”

The woman looked surprised. This was not what she had though he meant by a bit of cheer. Jacob knew that but spoke anyway.

“So I admit I’ve a weakness for the dice, it’s true. Now not only am I out of work, I’ve got debts to pay, and I’m a complete stranger here. What do you think?”

The whore looked at him with the wide-eyed expression he associated with complete cluelessness.

“I don’t rightly know,” she said. “I’m a whore, not a bloody fortune teller. Sounds to me like you’d best find a shortcut to some coin.”

“A shortcut, yes.”

Jacob brightened. He traced two fingers down the woman’s bare neck and to the swell of her breasts to keep her interested.

“And surely a female who lives here and knows these men and their fancies might have some suggestions?”

The green-eyed tart warmed to him now as he’d hoped. She raised his fingers off her breasts and to her mouth, sucking on them playfully.

“I might,” she said but said no more. Jacob took his free hand and fumbled into his pouch, pulling out some reales and handing them to her. She glanced at their value and pocketed them.

“You’ve seen the man o’war docked, haven’t you?”

“That enormous ship in the harbor, yes,” said Jacob. “Hard to believe a pirate won that beast.”

“Find a Mr. Dooley there on the beach,” she continued in-between finger sucking. “He’ll help you make some fast money, I hear.”

“Thank you, my dear,” said Jacob, freeing his fingers from her mouth and giving her two more reales before leaving. The woman stared after him, blinking.

“What? Not even a hand job?” she muttered.

***

Dooley threw the blackened and peeling turtle shell on the sand in front of Jacob. It had once been used as a string instrument. Now only two of the original four pieces of leather string were still pulled taught across the inside of the curved shell. The whole thing looked pitiful. Jacob curled his lip at it.

“Jesus. How long have you had it?” he asked.

“Five fucking years,” said Dooley bitterly. “She was me piece of luck on board, she was. Only instrument I ever learned to play. Now I need another one.”

Jacob looked from the ruined shell up to Dooley. He was a middle-aged man with short brown hair and matching beard that seemed extra curly. A fresh cut ran across his cheek, a sign of his piracy. He looked imploringly at Jacob.

“Well? You said you was a striker.”

“Yes,” said Jacob. “And I can find and kill sea turtles, but it might take some time.”

Dooley frowned at him and looked over his shoulder for a moment. He spat out a gob of tobacco.

“Two days. My captain says we’ll probably be pushin’ off then. You get me a shell and I’ll pay you your doubloon.”

Jacob winced but nodded. Two days would have to do. He was getting desperate. He shook hands with Dooley and they parted. At the end of the beach Jacob turned to look back at the massive red and gold man o’war that towered over the other ships in the harbor. She was truly magnificent and Jacob found himself wondering about her captain. Dooley hadn’t mentioned the need for a striker, but surely any captain would warm to the suggestion if Jacob did indeed manage to bring him his shell…

Jacob turned and nearly ran into a familiar face. When he saw who it was he grinned. Flint cursed at him.

“Fucking watch it,” he grumbled.

“Nice to see you again, James,” said Jacob sweetly.

Flint stared at him as if taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

“Concluding some business and admiring that beast of a ship there.”

Jacob nodded at the man o’war. When he looked to Flint he thought he saw the same smirk under all that wiry hair he had that night at the tavern table.

“What? Wait, are you the captain?” Jacob asked, unable to hide his surprise.

Flint nodded, a gleam coming to his eyes that took away the menacing expression. Jacob found he quite liked it.

“That I am,” said Flint. “We’re getting ready to set sail soon, so if you don’t mind…”

Flint began walking down the beach and Jacob almost let him go…but decided he wasn’t done trying with this one yet. He ran up and caught Flint by the arm.

“Captain,” he started cautiously, remembering this one was moody. He let go of the arm as Flint barely looked at him over his shoulder.

“Perhaps before you leave, I could have the, ah, pleasure of your company again,” said Jacob with a wry grin.

“Are you serious?”

Jacob shrugged innocently. “Why not?”

Flint studied him acutely for a moment, eyes travelling up and down as though measuring something. Then he frowned.

“Hmm. I think not. You may have a look to you but you proposition me like a whore.”

Jacob found his mouth hanging open slightly as Flint walked on away from. Jacob blinked. He could hardly believe his ears. Flint didn’t like him because he spoke like a whore? Did the man have no idea how a whore really spoke, when no one else was around? Jacob marched up to him again, this time darting in front of him. Flint nearly stumbled into him, look of annoyance flashing over his sea green eyes.

Jacob ignored the usual personal space barrier most men had and stood inches from Flint. He was roughly the same height as Flint so he bent towards the pirate captain’s ear and whispered, “I want you to suck my cock, because it’s been thinking about you ever since that night.”

Jacob pressed himself against Flint, grinning when Flint hesitated a few seconds too long to push him off with a sneer.

“Quit making a spectacle,” he hissed, looking around them. Jacob noticed the heavier rise and fall of Flint’s chest.

“Is that a yes, then?” Jacob asked.

Flint looked at his ship and the men rowing to and from the massive vessel, loading it with cargo and provisions. They had just started loading her up and he was still waiting and hoping news would come of a definite ship nearby to plunder. It was always quicker, cheaper, and less dangerous when they knew what and where to hunt, yet Flint knew not to get his hopes up. They might have to travel months away from New Providence, especially with how many other pirates were out in the West Indies nowadays.

Furthermore it would take at least the two days to finish loading the ship, so he had some time, and his stomach felt the flutter of desire as he turned and looked at the blonde. He motioned for Jacob to follow him inland.

 

Flint took them through part of the island’s jungle, away from Main Street and Nassau’s commerce area. Here housing was even more primitive, with a mixture of the remaining Native Indians and Westerners who now shared the same lands. The housing was straw thatch, and no one paid them any mind as Flint let him through the dirt path that cut through what Jacob supposed could be called a village. They came to a rocky region with a steep cliff. The area was actually quite beautiful to Jacob, with bright white and pink blossoming flowers all around a small waterfall and a single, circular thatched hut which Flint let them inside of.

Once inside Flint covered the open entrance with a wide piece of cloth made for just such a thing. It was slightly dim inside but not dark. The hut was very small; just slightly larger than a man’s body laid across it, Jacob figured. A clump of blankets lay on the floor with some old pillows. God knows what this hut had been used for; if the natives had built it then it could have just as easily been used for fucking as for eating human slaves, or some other barbaric practice.

Yet his thoughts eased somewhat when he noticed the sweet smell of the flowers from outside and the fact that the area was actually quite clean-looking. Cleaner, in fact, than most of the establishments found on Main Street.

Jacob felt a tug at his waist. Flint was taking off his belt and undoing his trousers, looking as solemn as though he were at work instead of play. He looked up at Jacob and the menace was out of his eyes, replaced with what Jacob thought might actually be a hint of true desire. It was enough to relax him further and cause his cock to harden as Flint pulled it out. Before he could get his mouth over it however Jacob grabbed his shoulder.

“You know, if you’re not careful, you might actually enjoy this,” he said evenly. He chose to forgo his usual grin, and to his delight the effect seemed to work. Flint merely raised an eyebrow at him before going back to his erection. He very slowly and deliberately put his lips over Jacob’s head and Jacob’s chest fluttered.

“Ahh, uh,” he mumbled as Flint’s tongue found his slit and danced all over his head, unhurried. Oh yes, this was the pace he had wanted.

Flint adjusted his footing and pulled on Jacob’s legs so that his cock slid further into Flint’s mouth. Flint took a hand and wrapped it around the base of Jacob’s shaft and pulled on it. Tiny moans escaped Jacob’s mouth and he dared to run his fingers through Flint’s full head of coppery hair. Flint didn’t stop. He pushed his mouth further up Jacob until he nearly reached his balls. Jacob moaned louder, fingers closing around the short ponytail the other man kept.

Flint’s hands moved up to grab his ass and squeeze as his lips worked into a steady up and down rhythm over Jacob’s now throbbing cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled out loud. He arched his hips forward into Flint’s mouth and to his astonishment he heard Flint moan below him. Jacob looked down and ever so gently tilted Flint’s chin upward. Flint looked up at him with lidded eyes, the desire there now obvious. Jacob felt a sharp burst of pleasure in his cock and stomach. He moaned again, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as Flint worked him. He pulled his mouth completely off Jacob and flicked out his tongue over Jacob’s balls, hand moving to pump his shaft.

“Jesus, James,” Jacob moaned, and suddenly all the action stopped. Holding in a cry Jacob looked down. Flint’s face was still draped in lust but something troubled him, and Jacob feared the mood was completely broken. He’d only said his name, for God’s sake.

“Please, don’t stop,” he panted out, grabbing on to the ponytail again. Flint said nothing but continued where he’d left off, tongue dancing frantically over his cock before Flint swallowed it whole.

Jacob gritted his teeth as Flint’s wet and slick mouth sent jolts of white-hot pleasure through him. His breathing became shorter and shorter, heart pounding in his chest as Flint’s tongue flicked back and forth over his slit, quick as a snake, and Jacob came. Flint shook his cock, swallowing some of the cum as Jacob hummed in his throat and leaned against the side of the hut for support.

When it was over he slid the rest of the way down the floor, panting and laughing. He watched as Flint wiped his mouth, also out of breath. His shirt was open down to his chest, the light layer of hair there glossy with sweat. For the first time it occurred to Jacob that this man was gorgeous to him in this state—and he wasn’t even completely drunk on desire. Even better was the fact that Flint’s own erection was straining in his trousers, and he was hurriedly unbuttoning them.

Jacob moved to get up and assist, but instead he found himself sliding back down the wall as Flint pulled out his cock and began jerking on it, apparently not needing—or wanting—any help. Jacob’s stomach dropped at the sight. He remembered the feel and girth of that lovely member in his mouth and watched eagerly now as Flint worked on it, at first using one fisted hand and then both, pulling on his scrotum at the same time.

Jacob looked up to the older man’s face, contorted in his efforts. A groan came from his lips and Jacob’s throat went dry as Flint’s shot his cum on the floor of the hut. He leaned heavily on the single wooden beam in the center of the hut, squeezing the last of his juices out and sweating even more now.

Jacob drank in the sight. He was half-hard again. He forced his legs to push him off the ground and moved to Flint. He rested a hand just shy of the nape of Flint’s neck and, filled with nothing but admiration and lust in that moment, he moved in to kiss him.

Flint jerked away as though he’d been bitten and raised a palm over Jacob’s mouth before the blonde could reach his lips.

“Not ever on the mouth,” said Flint in a raspy voice.

Jacob pulled his mouth away, confused. In truth he was quite disappointed but something told him not to ask questions so he relented, straightening his attire and pulling his hair back in a ponytail.

“Very well then,” he said. “That was…well, that was…”

At a loss for words he simply chuckled at Flint, who gave him a definite smirk this time, sea green eyes flashing. Ah, at last, Jacob thought, something more than the brutish mask. It was a fleeting thing, however, and as soon as they had stepped outside the spell was broken and Flint was scowling again.

They remained mostly silent on the way back into town. Jacob was feeling quite satisfied with their encounter and already wanting more.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he asked once they were back on the beach.

“What do you care?” asked Flint flatly.

Jacob felt a new feeling arise, and it had nothing to do with his cock this time.

“Is it absolutely necessary that you turn back into an asshole every time, hmm?”

Flint looked at him, though Jacob could not tell if the captain was surprised or angry with the question.

“I don’t know how long,” said Flint at last. “Though probably it will be at least two or three months before we return.”

Jacob frowned. Well, at least he hadn’t denied that he was being an asshole.

“I’ve got to see to the crew,” said Flint, heading off towards one of skiffs being used for hauling in cargo to the massive man o’war.

“Good-bye then,” Jacob said softly to himself. Suddenly Flint stopped and turned. Had he heard Jacob?

“Your business,” said Flint. “It was with Mr. Dooley?”

“Yes,” answered Jacob, not aware Flint had seen him with the man.

“Then you need money,” said Flint, eyeing him now. Jacob looked at him warily. Clearly Flint knew about Mr. Dooley’s dealings off the ship.

“I couldn’t get work with Captain Lawrence,” he answered carefully. He liked Captain Flint, but he knew what respectable men often thought of men with gambling problems, and he did not want Flint to think that of him.

“Hmm,” Flint grunted. “Dooley’s good for it,” he replied. “Just…be careful.”

The advice came out awkwardly. He turned and went down to the skiff. Jacob stood there looking after him, once again surprised. Be careful? The sentiment seemed uncalled for. Nevertheless Jacob smirked to himself and shrugged and turned his thoughts to hunting sea turtles.

 

A faint stench followed Mr. Dooley into the captain’s quarters, whereupon he quickly apologized and began cursing at the job of emptying the ship’s bilge pump, along with muttering about the irresponsibility of some of his companions and how they liked to flick the nasty waste water on their fellows for spite.

“Calm down, Mr. Dooley, you’re not in any trouble,” said Flint, trying hard to hide a grin. Dooley visibly relaxed.

“Oh thank God.”

“You brought it?” asked Flint, head nodding towards the dark shape Dooley carried in his hand. Dooley stepped forward, eyes brightening as he lifted the object in question to Flint’s desk. Flint raised up and took it. Dooley was positively beaming. He spoke rapidly, clearly pleased with the handiwork.

“It’s bigger than me old one, much bigger, and here, look how perfectly shaped the edges are, and the coloring, oh that Mr. Lewis is a good one, he is.”

The object that had Mr. Dooley so worked up over was, in fact, the turtleshell guitar that Jacob had promised him. Though Dooley had made the actual instrument it had been Jacob’s impressive catch that had allowed for it. Even Flint couldn’t help but be impressed, both with Jacob’s skill as a striker and with Dooley’s craftsman ship.

“Did Mr. Lewis say anything else about his financial predicament?” asked Flint after praising the guitar.

Dooley thought a moment, eyes going up. Though not the most intelligent of the crew he was several steps above the least intelligent and Flint knew he could speak to him without having to dumb everything down.

“Said he might have some trouble soon if he didn’t pay some people, I think,” replied Dooley. “Nothin’ else of note comes to mind, captain. Although, if I may say, sounded to me like gamblin’ problems, it did.”

Flint stroked his beard and nodded, dismissing him. He leaned back in his chair and stayed there for some time, thinking.

 

When Jacob had promptly returned to the gambling tables by the beach, a one Mr. Henry Sandson--the man who had threatened him after Jacob had failed to pay the extra doubloon—had nearly taken his head off if not for the intervention of some of his more sober companions. Sandson’s crew had only just returned victorious from capturing a prize (small though it sounded to Jacob) and were still merrily in the throes of spending. Such was their mood that Sandon’s friends managed to convince him not to kill Jacob.

Even so they had kicked sand towards his face and told him to get lost. And Jacob had. He’d spent the next eight or so weeks away from the beach and all its temptations. He’d visited the brothels, had gone to see about a new shirt and trousers, and had even wondered over to the imposing façade of Nassau’s fort to have a look around.

All in all, Nassau wasn’t much different than the rest of the Bahamas, or the whole of the Spanish Main.

There were all kinds of pleasures to indulge in, to be certain, but there was also the damnable climate and people infected with various nasties ranging from tropical fever, malaria, and of course, venereal diseases. 

All the same in this part of the world that he called home, with all the same temptations he could not seem, no matter how many ships he jumped, to get away from. So he wondered around the fort and the less inhabited interior of the island. The jungles had always been beautiful to him compared to the general mayhem and squalor of towns. One day he found himself along the dirt path that led to the ramshackle village Flint had taken him to.

It was all so pristine looking, as though God had decided to spend extra time designing it. Its countless varieties of plants and trees and wild animals were a wonder to behold. He wondered if Flint appreciated such beauty, or if he, like so many others, found it all merely an annoyance; something to be hacked through and destroyed for the convenience of men.

Jacob passed the hut they had stayed in and was awash in the memory of their afternoon together there. He recalled Flint’s face down below his waist and those darkly speckled sea eyes and ginger hair. He found himself lusting after the captain. Still his thoughts turned again to beauty and what Flint might think if he were to ask him about such a thing.

Jacob scoffed at himself. He never could get around to asking another man such a question because of how ridiculous it would sound. It was pure fantasy, and fantasy belonged with the other, less noble and more scandalous thoughts the ex-midshipman had about the pirate captain. Still, as Jacob wondered around the outskirts of the village and peered into the deeper, darker portion of jungle, where no man tread, he couldn’t help but wonder.

***

A week later he was as bored as ever and growing anxious.

A few more crews had drifted into port but none of them had been successful. They complained of bad weather and bad seamanship and a few even grumbled about the anger of the sea gods and a spell of rotten luck. They all cursed the royal navy.

As Jacob lounged in the tavern one afternoon listening to the grumbling and growing tired of it he realized he’d been on the same island for nearly three months for no good reason. Jacob frowned into the top of his mug, gazing at the amber-tainted reflection of himself. Even without finding an honest job he could have just as easily won enough coin to pay for passage off of New Providence. Perhaps he could go further east, towards what they called Central America and try to do business with the Spaniards.

The idea that formed in the wake of that possibility stuck in his head even before he was finished thinking about it and Jacob cursed to himself. If greed were his foe, then he always gave the devil his due.

Just then a man took up the seat across from his little round table.

“Mind if I join you? They done took the rest o’ the chairs for some council meeting or somethin’” he said, seeming to be both sober and polite enough. Jacob nodded.

“Not as though my pretty wife will be warming the seat anytime soon.”

The man laughed, though Jacob must have looked more upset than he’d thought because the man said he looked like his face might slide off into his drink. Jacob sighed.

“Ever had two opposing forces pulling on your mind at once?” he asked, continuing on before the man could answer. “It’s like all the dualities one can contrive of: black and white, logic and lust, common sense and gut feelings, responsibility and recklessness; they all argue in my head over whether or not I should walk over to that table or that corner and pick up those dice. I know I should not but I do anyways. I’ve got a brain about me and I’ve even had schooling, yet my actions do not match any bloody thing about me.”

Jacob stopped. The man was, naturally, regarding him as though he’d lost his senses. Jacob frowned and took a drink.

“Forget it,” he said shortly and stood to leave.

 

 

It was early morning and early fall when Flint and his crew returned to Nassau’s port. The crew was sulking, having only been able to track and capture two sloop-sized merchant ships, both of them Dutch. The goods were not gold and very little silver and most of it was supplies to be sold from Nassau.

To cheer spirits Flint had them sail to Tortuga for an assortment of drink and women not to be found in Nassau, as well as a chance to hear gossip about other crews. It had helped, yet by the time they’d come home the merriment was all but dead and Flint was tired of trying to please them.

Now he was relieved to be back home, even without much booty. He’d passed several nights—along with the rest of the crew—listening to Dooley play his guitar, which he was good at. Flint’s mind kept drifting to Jacob in those moments, wondering about how he’d managed to kill sea turtles so close to shore. He’d never known the things to come inland except to breed, and though this was the season for them, he’d never seen them around Nassau. Jacob must have had a knowledge about them. Thoughts of the blonde, however, had eventually turned far more intimate and Flint had been forced to retire to his cabin to work out what was in his pants. However touching himself only made him long for another’s touch more, as it always had, so he’d banished all thoughts of Jacob away for the remainder of the voyage.

Now, as they dropped anchor at last and began unloading their haul Flint decided a trip to the brothel that evening might do him some good. So it was after they’d spent the day sorting and dividing up shares that Flint made his way towards Main Street and the brothel house. He was at the bar, ordering a drink and eyeing the female clientele when he heard harsh yelling that carried above the usual din. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see three brutish looking men pushing none other than Jacob Lewis out the door. They looked pissed, and though Flint hadn’t caught Jacob’s face he figured the blonde wasn’t smiling. Flint moved to leave the bar but halted. He wanted to see the Irishman much more than the whores but whatever trouble Jacob was in he wanted no part of it. Still, moments after the four of them had left Flint saw no other man coming to aid Jacob, and four against one simply wasn’t fair.

Flint left the bar and the tavern. Main Street was crowded this evening with all manner of persons but he didn’t spot the handsome blonde anywhere out in the open. That was typically a bad sign. Flint walked around the side of the building and into an alleyway. Sure enough he could make out several silhouettes moving in the darkness in the narrow passageway.

The smell of smoke and piss reached Flint’s nostrils as he cautiously went into the passageway, his eyes adjusting to the gloom enough to know that the three larger forms he saw and heard belonged to the brutish men who were kicking and beating the fourth form on the ground.

Flint drew his pistol, cocked it, and fired up into the sky. The cackle and flash of orange-yellow light brilliantly lit up the alley for a split second, revealing the startled men’s sweaty and drunk faces. Two of them lurched toward him but had not seen the second pistol Flint drew. He swiftly dropped the first pistol and also pulled out his cutlass for good measure. The men hesitated.

“This ain’t none of your business,” one of them growled at him. “So bugger off.”

“I’m making it my business,” replied Flint evenly. “So you bugger off, or I’ll make quick work of all three of you.”

The men backed off, but the largest of them—more tall than wide and with an enormous stride—pushed angrily past his companions and eyed Flint.

“Your friend here owes me money. He’s a piece of offal, he is, not telling us he couldn’t cover his bet. He’s got to pay.”

“I’ll make sure he gets you your money, but only if you leave now,” said Flint, not moving the barrel of the flintlock off them.

The men grumbled before nudging one another and turning to leave. The tall one eyed Flint the longest before joining his mates. He gave the rising form on the ground one final kick, forcing the air out of his lungs.

Once they were gone Flint helped Jacob climb to his feet. They left the alley and as soon as they had reached the lighted markets, Flint grabbed his face and leaned it towards the glow. Jacob winced.

“Is it bad? I think my nose is broken.”

Without warning Flint grabbed that body part between thumb and finger and tugged on it. Jacob cried out and cursed.

“What the fuck?!”

Flint frowned to hide a smile. “It’s a bloody mess but it’s not broken, just bruised. And I’m not getting your money for you.”

“I know,” Jacob said quickly, understanding the bluff. He touched his nose gingerly.

Indeed, much of Jacob’s face was as such. Flint counted three lacerations and one good blow to his left eye. He informed the Irishman not to be surprised if it was swollen shut in the morning. His stomach had also taken a beating. Flint stood rolling his eyes while Jacob lifted his shirt in the middle of the street and checked his wounds like a child.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned. “Those assholes.”

He lowered his shirt and looked up at Flint for the first time. A grin spread across his face.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Jesus.”

They both started laughing. Jacob had a light, bubbly laugh that Flint found pleasant to his ears. He suppressed his own laughter after a moment, feeling the color rise to his cheeks. He turned the feeling outward.

“Sounds like you were the asshole if what he said was true,” said Flint.

Jacob quieted. He started walking. Flint fell in beside him, thumbs hooked around his belt.

“Yes, I suppose I am an asshole,” Jacob said at length. “Though cursed is more like it.”

“This is why you went to Dooley?” asked Flint. “You needed to pay off debts?”

Jacob nodded, the tug of a smile at his lips now fading altogether in the light of complete truth.

“Some men say it’s a curse, given to us because of some sin from our past, like God has something to do with it. Others say it’s just our weakness coming to the fore and we become like leapers, shunned and mocked by the strong. Pah.”

Flint eyed him, his curiosity amplified. He spent so much time around men with very little in the way of the gift of gab that Jacob’s rhetoric skills both impressed him and charmed him, long-winded though he could be. Now as he regarded the younger man more carefully in the collective lantern light he thought he saw a trace of sadness there.

A warning voice whispered in some still place in Flint’s head. The voice told him not to care, not to pry. This was getting personal, and Flint had already told himself did not want personal with Jacob.

As he thought to himself Jacob had warmed to the sound of his own voice and had continued talking. Flint listened, despite himself.

“I can’t stay with any pirate crew long, not before the need arises and I start gambling again. Even if I manage to follow the rules and not gamble on the ship at first, I always ruin it. Always. I’ve been praised for my skills as a striker and cooper and before all of this, I was a decent midshipman. And I lost that. And the most pathetic part is I can’t even make a proper criminal.”

Jacob snorted, a self-derogatory sound. He was sneering, looking down at the sand as they walked. Flint looked up to see they had somehow wondered onto the beach away from port and closer towards its edge, where eventually the jungles of New Providence closed in and cut off the beach like a crescent moon and the sharp, black outlines of rocks grew in place of sand.

Jacob stopped walking and shrugged. He squared his shoulders and let out a breath as though attempting to rid himself of his heavy burden.

“Ah well, never mind,” he said. “I sound like a damn child, whining about my problems. Apologies.”

Flint shrugged. “We all have our demons.”

“True enough.”

Flint regretted the words as an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Though the only light out here was from the moon, Flint could feel more than see Jacob scrutinizing him, no doubt wondering just what his demons were.

“Well,” said Jacob. “I’d best be getting back.”

As he turned Flint’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Here they were, alone and in the dark, the furthest away from any possible intrusion, and Flint decided he wasn’t ready to call it a night just yet. When Jacob looked at him expectantly Flint raised an eyebrow suggestively.

“And pass up an opportunity such as this?” he said.

Jacob immediately brightened, bloody nose and all.

“Are you serious? I look like hell.”

As the clouds drifted away from the moon and Jacob’s wounds glittered under its light Flint frowned. He pulled out the rag that hung from his belt. It was usually used to clean his sword with after battle—or his own face. It was clean now, however, and he gave it to Jacob. Jacob cleaned himself up as best he could.

“Come on,” said Flint, leading them away from the edge of the beach and back towards the tree line where jungle met sand. He searched for a few minutes before finding a palm tree whose trunk had grown almost horizontally out of the ground, creating a gentle slope.

“Here,” he said. Jacob eyed the tree, mind quickly catching up to Flint’s.

“Don’t they actually call it a fuck tree?” he mused, familiar smugness alighting his expression. He ran a hand down the trunk, fingers gliding over it like it was silk to be caressed. Then he faced Flint and straddled the slope of the trunk and leaned back into its curve, legs bent at the knee. He slowly spread them open, eyes on Flint’s face. He bit his lower lip. It didn’t help that he was wearing tight-fitting, all-black trousers.

Flint sighed and his mouth went dry at the sight. Jacob gave him a toothy grin. Flint quickly took off his belt, shirt and boots while Jacob did the same. Flint left his trousers on and watched as Jacob undid his own. When Jacob realized he was being watched intensely again he slowed down, fingers delicately undoing each button one at a time.

“God damnit,” muttered Flint. Even without looking up Flint could still make out the grin on his face. Jacob was intensely focused on the task at hand, opening his fly to reveal white breeches underneath that were so thin Flint could make out the entire shape and size of his half-hard cock pressed up against them. He moaned and steeled himself, clenching and unclenching his fists. He absolutely loved this display, and Jacob looked delicious giving it to him, but his patience was thin these days.

“Hurry the fuck up.”

His voice was raspy. Jacob’s eyes finally rose. They looked black in the moonlight. Flint licked his lips and came over to the tree, pressing one hand to the trunk just above the blonde’s head and watching with growing impatience as Jacob began pulling down his trousers, taking his breeches with him. Inches away Flint rubbed his own crotch. He was aching now, feeling the pressure and pleasure start to build.

Jacob pushed himself off the trunk and even closer to Flint in order to finish his show, slipping out of his pants altogether while Flint unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his cock. As soon as Jacob was completely naked Flint spun him around towards the tree. Jacob made an annoyed sound.

“Really?” he complained. “You really are straight to business. Couldn’t you at least kiss me somewhere? A hand job, even?”

Flint spit into his palm and fingers and answered by sliding a finger into Jacob. Jacob instantly tightened around him. A whimper escaped his lips. Flint’s cock twitched.

“Isn’t this what you want?” he whispered, breath blowing the hair from Jacob’s ear.

“Mmm, yes,” moaned Jacob, all complaints now silenced. He shifted his footing slightly and brought a fist up to the tree trunk in front of him. Flint moved his index finger around Jacob’s hole a few times and then slid in a second finger, hooking it this time. Jacob ass clenched hard before he moaned and relaxed.

“Unhh.”

Flint was about to burst from want. He wiggled his fingers, enlarging the entry and sending shivers of bliss through the other man before he withdrew and spit again, stroking his cock and pressing its tip against Jacob’s hole.

Jacob strained to see over his shoulder, eyes heavy as he looked at Flint’s erection. Flint wasted no more time and plowed into Jacob. A sting of pleasure overtook him and he groaned, shoulder muscles briefly going slack as Jacob’s warm tightness engulfed him.

He started slowly, letting both of them adjust to a steady rhythm. It wasn’t long before Jacob reached back and grappled at Flint’s ass, pushing on it and urging him to intensify his touch. Flint complied greedily. He backed up a tiny step and grabbed both sides of Jacob’s hips and pulled.

“Oh god, James,” Jacob moaned. He raised both hands to the truck and braced himself against it as Flint slammed into him, balls hitting the back of his ass with a slapping sound. Flint felt the heat rise and rise until sweat broke out on his forehead. His breath came out in short pants, echoing Jacob’s.

He gritted his teeth when it felt like his cock couldn’t stand the waves of pleasure that zinged through it and his balls. Faster and faster he went until he only heard Jacob’s breaths coming out when he pushed inside, “huh, huh, huh.”

And then Flint came. He held his breath as the hotness spilled from his loins and into Jacob. He let out a moan from his loose jaw. As his cock went soft so did the rest of his body, until Flint felt pleasantly like wet rope. He withdrew from Jacob.

Jacob, for his part, stood straddled between the palm tree a moment longer, trying to catch his breath. As Flint pulled up his pants he marveled at the sight: Jacob’s taunt body was glimmering with sweat, highlighted by the moonlight, his ass stuck out as though still begging for it, ash blonde hair completely out of its ponytail and draped beautifully over his shoulders. Then he swung a leg over the tree and found his clothes.

He half sat, half leaned on his arm next to Flint in the sandy dirt. The silence that passed in the minutes afterward was filled with none of the tension from earlier. In fact Flint got lost looking out at the ocean and the stars above. It was so peaceful tonight; no ships were to be seen and the only sound was the incoming tide in front of them and a choir of tree frogs behind them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Flint started. He looked at Jacob, who was staring straight ahead, face almost serene.

“Yes, it is.”

And just like that the moment was gone. Not quite all at once but rather it dissolved away—rudely—right after Flint had spoke, because now the tension in Flint’s body had returned. This was wrong. It felt good, too good—and too personal.

Flint stood unceremoniously. He finished dressing and brushed the sand off his pants and hands.

“Try not to get beaten up again,” he mused as he left.

***

“Good night to you too,” Jacob yelled after him, as loudly as possible. Flint raised a hand, not even breaking pace, and kept walking. Jacob sat up and huffed. He turned back to the view of the ocean and tried to relax again, to reclaim the feeling he’d had only moments ago but it was gone. He shouldn’t have spoken. He always had to say something, probably when he should be shutting up instead. He hadn’t quite figured James Flint out yet, but now it was obvious that he was flighty about certain things. He reminded Jacob of a Jackdaw—black birds that were intimidating and impressive from afar yet wary once one got close enough.

He huffed again, glancing to his left to see the now tiny figure make his way back into the lighted world of Nassau and no doubt to his ship to bunk for the evening. Jacob sighed. Already the anger had drained out of him; he just felt too good after their encounter. And what an encounter it had been. Jacob adjusted his cock in his pants. He hadn’t been fucked like that in quite some time, but it was more than that.

Jacob shivered as a breeze picked up. The air had turned cooler since sunset, cooler than it had been lately. He rose and fastened his belt back on and began the trek back, following the lumpy set of Flint’s boot steps in the sand. They were fresh but contained no warmth. Jacob stared down at them for too long. He would have had to run to catch up to their owner. The dry sand would slow him down no matter his pace. He wished suddenly that the distance between them wasn’t so great.

 

 

He’d tried to drown out his concern over Flint with drink. Jacob wasn’t a regular drinking man; he had sense enough to see what it did to even the best gentlemen—or best pirate. Now, however, as he sat on the edge of an old and battered red divan and a whore pulled the curtains closed and opened his trousers Jacob took a long drink of the spicy and sweet brew in his hand.

“How do you like the bumbo?” the whore asked him, crouching down between his legs. “Made from the best rum, along with lemon juice, syrup, and cinnamon.”

Her voice stressed her young age, light and sweet. Jacob took another drink as she pulled out his member. It was barely erect. He stroked her wavy hair.

“Sorry love, but sometimes it needs a bit of encouragement,” he said. The truth was, of course, that while Jacob could get hard with a woman it was a man’s touch that always caused the quickest response in him. The whore, for her part, was quite used to these situations and nodded, eagerly wrapping her mouth around him. He watched as her head bobbed up and down, small hands working on him. Jacob sighed and closed his eyes. He imagined it was Flint between him.

He had tuned out most of the noise from the other side of the curtains until he heard the very distinctive sound of dice being shook in a cup and then spilled out onto a hard surface. Jacob tried to ignore it and focus on the pretty thing working away at his cock but it was difficult. He heard a group of men laugh and then more rattling dice. Jacob took another drink, gritting his teeth.

“What is wrong?” the whore said, pulling at his half-hard cock. Jacob hissed and stood.

“Sorry honey. Here.”

He gave her coin for her trouble and fixed himself, then jerked open the curtain. He was far more aroused by the sound of the dice than he was for sex.

The tavern was very crowded this evening. Several crews had returned in the last few days while several had left harbor, filling the dimly lit room with many new faces. A group of these new faces were on the other side of the bar from Jacob, gambling. They were having quite a time of it, slapping each other’s backs and making jokes. They were men of good gambling temperament, the type of men Jacob searched for to play with. He walked toward them like a moth drawn to a flame.

***

Flint reluctantly followed two of his men into the tavern.

Come on, cap’n! A drink with each of us for Tortuga they’d said, evidently grateful for the stop-over despite the small haul. Flint wasn’t in the mood to be social, but it wasn’t often his crew wanted to be social with him so he could not deny the request. The tavern was especially busy tonight, with all the barmaids rushing to fulfill orders of drink. A constant stream of men and women were going to and fro from the rooms upstairs. The air was thick with alcohol, tobacco and sex. Flint joined his mates at the bar and toasted them. As he looked around the room he saw Jacob across the way. He sat with some five or six rough-looking men—all pirates, Flint could tell—and he was gambling.

Jacob’s face was slightly flushed and it looked to Flint that he was planning on getting roaring drunk. Flint muttered a curse.

“What was that, cap’n?” his mates asked.

“I’ve got to take care of something,” he said and left them to cross over to Jacob.

“Now gentlemen,” Jacob was saying as he took up the cup and draped a palm over its open lid. “This is the ritual. I’ve used it every single game since I was twenty and it rarely fails me.”

Jacob waved the cup around in a circle, shook it twice, then waved it in a circle again. The men watched, grinning. He shook it three times.

“Did you see?” he asked them, his brown eyes moving over each of their faces. “Five shakes altogether, because that was the wager.”

A hand and a hiss of angry breath came to Jacob’s left ear.

“What are you doing?”

Jacob turned to look at Flint. The joy on his face faded. He frowned and jerked his shoulder away coldly.

“I’m at a game, can’t you see?” he replied, looking to his fellows and making a show of it. They all laughed, motioning for Flint to get lost. Flint squatted down so that his face was level with the blonde’s.

“Are you fucking mad? Can you even pay them if you lose?” Flint hissed. He watched as Jacob’s jaw tightened and he let loose the dice from the cup, ignoring Flint. The dice tinked over the table top and scattered about. Jacob’s face lit up instantly and he jumped out of his seat while his companions let loose good-natured cries of defeat. Flint sucked in a measured breath and grabbed Jacob by the elbow.

“Quit the game now,” he said.

Jacob shot him a look so full of venom that it shocked the pirate captain.

“Leave me be damnit! It’s none of your fucking business, Flint.”

Flint let go of him and backed away. He blinked, slipping the mask over his face. “Fine. See if I care if you wind up dead in the fucking ditch.”

He spun on his heels and left the bar, gripping the hilt of his sword so hard his knuckles were white. He shoved people out of his way as he left the tavern and stepped out into the hot and sticky evening. There was no reason for his anger, he thought. He fancied Jacob, but he’d fancied other men he’d fucked before too. Why should he care what they did with their free time? Still, it didn’t sit right with him that someone with Jacob’s seeming potential could behave so stupidly.

Then again, Flint thought, had he not done same? Both as a pirate captain here and now and years ago he’d acted rashly out of desperation and had paid dearly for it. He should not begrudge men their faults, he knew, but with Jacob…it bothered him.

***

The man glared out at Jacob from the balcony of the tavern. The whore draped over his arm nudged him playfully.

“Come on Sal, don’t you want another go at it?” she asked with a French accent. Sal grunted.

“Not now, Ivy. See that yellow haired one down there playin’ dice? Almost killed him the other night in the alley. That fucker owes me money, and he’s playin’ fucking dice! That son of a bitch.”

“You gonna teach him a lesson, Sal?” the woman asked.

“You’re damn right I am,” he said. Sal narrowed his eyes down at the grinning fool of a man who had the audacity to insult him so.

***

Jacob did not realize how focused he had been on the game until something very pointed and sharp came up against the small of his back. A heavy hand clapped down over his shoulder and squeezed, and he knew it was not Flint’s. When Jacob turned his head to see who stood behind him the sharp point twisted slightly and dug into his skin. Jacob winced, muscles going taut.

“’Ello fellas,” came a deep and booming voice from behind. “Sorry to interrupt, but me and my friend here have urgent business to conclude. Ain’t that right, friend?”

Jacob knew by the way the merriment on his companion’s faces fell away and they all nodded hastily that he was in trouble. The heavy hand pulled up on him. Jacob climbed to his feet. The hand turned him around so he could face its owner. It was none other than the leader of the three men who had attacked him not two night’s past. And he had not paid him back yet.

“Look,” Jacob started, raising his palms in surrender. The man’s face did not match his deep voice; it was small and shrew-like, with a hawkish nose. One of his eyes was glazed over white and had scar tissue running over the eyebrow. Shrew-like or not, the effect was frightening, especially when the man smiled coldly at him.

“Shut up. The name’s Sal, you motherfucker,” he growled. He kept what Jacob knew must have been a dagger dug discreetly into Jacob’s back, his other hand still gripping his shoulder so it appeared as though they were mates as he led Jacob through the crowd and out the door. Several times Jacob saw opportunities to break away from the brute and use the crowded tavern to his advantage, but he knew the escape would only be temporary, and if he angered the man further he might decide to kill Jacob on the spot.

So Jacob let himself be led outside. Sweat broke out over his body. Sal was alone, which was good, but also bad as he led them off of Main Street and towards dense outcropping of jagged rocks on the beach. He had something special in mind, and Jacob desperately tried not to think of what. Sal was being quiet as the grave. Jacob figured his only option was to try and talk his way out of it.

“Look Sal,” Jacob began again. “I owe you, and I’ll double it, I swear. Give me half the night to get your money…”

“Shut up, you piece of offal,” said Sal, shoving Jacob out in front of him and around the rocks to the unpopulated side of the beach, where it was quiet and dark. Jacob’s heart slammed against his chest.

“Please, Sal, let me do this, and you’ll never have to see or hear from me again,” said Jacob, palms still raised as Sal shoved him back against the rocks. He revealed his dagger, holding it up to Jacob’s throat. Just then Jacob heard soft bootfalls crunch in the sand. A second man came around the outcropping, one of the men from the alleyway that night. He leered when he saw Jacob.

“About fucking time,” said Sal, glancing at the other man. The man grabbed a hold of Jacob and quickly began fastening a thick piece of hemp rope around his wrists. Dear God, what the fuck were they going to do? Sal grabbed his crotch obscenely and smirked at him.

“I still want to see you, little man,” he said. “I want to see you mouth on my cock.”

Jacob’s mouth went dry in fear. He winced as the other man pulled the rope tight around his wrists. Jacob jerked, forcing his legs to move as he lunged away from them and towards the ocean. He made it only a few feet before the man tackled him down to the ground, punching him twice in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of Jacob, subduing him while the man pulled out another piece of hemp and secured Jacob’s ankles with it. Then he dragged Jacob back behind the boulders and forced him on his knees.

Sal loomed over him, making a show of the dagger and letting the moonlight glint of its blade. He undid his trousers and pulled them down. Jacob turned away but the other man grabbed his face in a vise-like grip and forced him to face forward. Jacob’s heart raced. He prayed to God that he would never, ever gamble again if he could just please not have to do this, but it was no good.

Sal held the dagger to this throat and stuck his member in front of Jacob’s lips.

“Now, suck it, you bastard,” he said. “And don’t bite, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Jacob closed his eyes and parted his lips as the blade pressed against the side of his neck. He thought about gagging, thought about vomiting up the bumbo he’d had earlier, thought about bile rising from the back of his throat. Yes, that would certainly do it. Sal would be too disgusted to have himself sucked then. Jacob wished for it with all his willpower as the bastard forced himself inside Jacob’s mouth. For a moment Jacob thought it might happen; he felt his stomach lurch, felt his muscles spasm as Sal’s cock went further down his throat. Nothing came of it.

He heard the cock of a pistol behind Sal right before a shot went off and he glimpsed blood and brain splattering in the air above him.

Jacob jumped and cried out as Sal’s cock slid out of his mouth and Sal himself fell to the ground. Beside him Sal’s man cried out and cursed. He pulled out his sword and lunged forward. When Jacob forced his eyes open (he didn’t even know he’d squeezed them shut) he watched as Flint’s cutlass came crashing down over the other man’s. Flint shoved him backwards. The fight was short, with Flint being the better sword fighter of the two and managing to trip his opponent with his foot so that he stumbled. Flint took his opportunity and skewered the man straight through the belly.

Jacob vomited. His stomach throbbed wildly with pain from the punches he’d taken earlier, combined with the action of vomiting. Once he was done he curled up on his side, moaning. Flint. James. James had saved him. James was here. It was the only thought he could formulate.

Strong hands gently wrapped around his arms and lifted him up. Jacob moaned and resisted, stomach aching, but still managed to find his feet. Once he did he stood up straight and opened his eyes, breathing heavily. For a few precious seconds he saw a look of pure concern coating James’s face, brows drawn back and sea green eyes looking at him tenderly. Then the look faded as he let Jacob stand on his own, breaking their contact.

“T-thank you,” Jacob breathed out, clutching at his stomach.

“Did he stab you?” asked James, following Jacob’s hands.

“N-no. Just some punches.”

James raked a hand through his hair and faced away from him. Jacob knew he was angry. James whirled back around and shocked Jacob by grabbing him by the lapels of his shirt and shaking him.

“Jesus Christ…”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” James roared. “Why the fuck were you gambling? Do you want to die like this, getting raped and then stabbed in this shithole of a place?”

Without thinking Jacob raised his fist and slammed it into James’s face. James let go and stumbled back a step, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck you,” said Jacob, so enraged spittle flew from his mouth. “I told you, it’s a fucking disease! I can’t bloody help it, or I would! I don’t want this, I fucking hate myself for it, every fucking day, do you know?”

Jacob stared at James, rage turning his vision hazy. James seemed baffled and at a loss. He raised the back of his fingers to his bruising jaw, though the anger was draining from his face. Jacob took a deep breath and turned away from him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” said James. “Clearly you have problems, and I have more than enough of my own. It was supposed to just be sex with you. I can’t do this,” he said again. Jacob wondered who he was trying to convince—Jacob or himself. He turned around to face James.

“Then don’t,” he said with a sneer. “I’ve had my share of people saving me from myself and then hating me for it. I never asked for your help, you know.” He jabbed a finger at James. “Yet that’s twice you’ve saved me now. Ever asked yourself why?”

James stared at him, eyes darting around in his head.

“There’s plenty of other men you could fuck,” Jacob continued, not giving a damn what he said now. “You try so hard to be a prick, to not care, but the truth is—“

“The truth is, I can’t afford to care,” James cut him off. “I’m a captain, for Christ’s sake. I’ve got a ship and a crew of seventy-five to worry about. I can’t worry about you. Men cannot have relationships.”

He added the last sentence in quietly, too quietly, and Jacob narrowed his eyes. He thought again of a Jackdaw bird.

“That’s a load of shit,” he said plainly. “I’ve had such a relationship.”

James looked at him, and Jacob saw all manner of emotions warring across his face but could not pinpoint any of them. He did, however, recognize the vulnerability that was there. It was the same thing he’d had glimpses of; a vulnerability he’d ached to understand only a few days ago staring at boot prints in the sand.

James shook his head.

“No. I can’t. I’m sorry, but this ends now.”

Jacob said nothing. He regarded James another moment. James waited expectantly, but Jacob had no more words for him. He felt utterly defeated in every way a man could, so he simply turned and walked away.

 

They fell on their backs, breathless and covered in perspiration. James curled his face into the crook of his neck. They remained like that until their breathing had slowed, neither one of them seemingly able to speak just yet. This was always James's favorite moment. Time seemed to drain away from his consciousness and he felt like could float away if it wasn’t for the strong anchor the man next to him provided. James looked down the length of his body. He studied the details of the other’s pale, smooth skin and the blonde hair that became darker and thicker down past his belly.

Then James laid his head on his chest. A set of fingers trailed their way through James’s long reddish hair.

“I want to do this forever,” said James, not moving from his position.

“What?” came the reply.

“Listen to your heart beat. Until the day it stops.”

He knew without looking that had earned him a smile.

“I’d love nothing more. But you may not be around for that day.”

“Then I will enjoy it every day until that day,” James replied. He closed his eyes, not knowing what the future held for them but in that moment James knew it didn’t matter. He was tired of planning for the future. For now, he had this, and for now, it was everything to him. Just then the clock chimed the hour and James groaned, not wanting his favorite moment to end…

James opened his eyes to the gloom of his cabin and the images from his dream dissolved. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as it usually did after the dreams. He let out a sigh laden with sorrow and shifted in his hammock. The tears came unbidden to his eyes as he struggled to remember every touch, every whisper that had been exchanged and he was reminded with sickening clarity how smashed and bloodied his heart still was.

***

The next few weeks were uneventful for the most part. Life went on in New Providence without much ado; there were births and deaths and funerals and even a pirate wedding which drew much attention because pirates rarely settled down.

James had not seen Jacob for some time and figured either he’d finally made passage off the island or he was avoiding James. James found himself hoping for the latter, because as much as he tried to deny it to himself, he was forced to admit that the thought of never seeing the blonde again upset him.

James chewed this bit of insight over for several days. He missed him, it was true, but he’d nipped it in the bud, so to speak. He reminded himself that he had been right to break their dalliance off when he had. Now he could concentrate on actively pursuing information about potential prizes with his full attention.

James studied his charts long and hard in order to avoid thinking about what was slowly creeping up on him regarding his feelings for Jacob—and what memories they had stirred within him.

The fall season was fast approaching, and James had gathered the crew together on the beach in front of his ship to announce his idea for one last trip up north to the Americas before the harsh New World winter visited that area. A vote was taken, and with their money and supplies running low and the possibility of finding large fat merchant ships increased, the crew voted almost unanimously in favor of James’s decision.

James spent the rest of that afternoon in his makeshift tent on the beach, plotting out their course. The creeping thoughts about Jacob were still hounding him and he needed to stay focused. As the sun began its descent across the sky, however, James’s ears began popping. When the sensation stayed with him for the better part of half an hour he left the tent and stepped outside.

“Captain,” someone called out from up ahead. James squinted as Mr. Dooley came toward him from a longboat.

“Just comin’ to tell you,” said Dooley, nodding off into the horizon. James’s chest felt heavy as he looked far out to sea, where a long expanse of dark gray storm clouds had formed. James worked his jaw until his ears popped again.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. Dooley nodded, face solemn. “Everyone’s ears is poppin’ off like crazy. Birds have all gone quiet. This one is gonna be a bloody good one, it is.”

“Get all the master crew together and unload the ship, as quickly as possible.”

Dooley was already off, nodding quickly and running back to the longboat. James cursed again. They were entering the peak of hurricane season. He’d weathered several of them during his time as a sailor, but it had been several years since he remembered one of the beastly storms hitting New Providence. He looked back out at the gathering chaos. He knew that distance was a very tricky thing in the ocean, to be judged only by a seasoned sailor. James judged the storm to be roughly four or five hundred miles away, but he knew that the larger it grew in size and ferocity the quicker it would move. They would need to not only unload all the valuables from the ship, -- dozens of food and water barrels, extra sails, at least a few cannons and their shot, which would take the longest to unload—but they would also need to move the damn ship away from the rocky cliffs that flanked the harbor, otherwise she could get pummeled to pieces if the storm were severe enough.

James stripped off his long coat and laid it inside the tent and rolled up his sleeves. He ran down to the shoreline, where men were already clamoring for his aid.

 

And I'll take everything as it comes my way  
Pushin' your pain 'round my door  
And I cry for you, As I die for you  
Is this blood on my hands all for you?

\--Candlebox, “You”

The Spanish man o’war had eight longboats tied to her sides, and James ordered all but two to be used in loading supplies. After one round of boats delivered supplies on shore he ordered three more of them to be used exclusively for loading three of their eight-pound cannons. The sheer weight of each cannon caused the longboats to sag in the water almost up to their tops. In fact two of the three longboats did take on water, and they decided to estimate the six lightest men of the crew for rowing the boats.

The longboats still took on water but very slowly, and the men rowed fast so that by the time the poor boats were truly sinking the men could jump out in the shallows and pull them the rest of the way to shore before the cannons were ruined.

James observed from the man o’war’s deck as the third longboat made it safely to shore. He quickly began helping others load another boat with shot, of which they could not load much due to its weight as well so they spread it out over three more longboats. By the time it was loaded and ready to go to shore James’s arms burned with fatigue and sweat coated his face and chest.

The seas had become rougher. A constant rolling of waves now made the shoreline a living, wriggling thing. The wind had picked up and strong gusts caused the ship to rock under their feet. James pushed his men, yelling at them to move and even throwing in traditional naval phases he had not uttered in quite some time.

The men worked like mules, yet even as the last of the most important cargo was loaded the storm was nearly upon them, as was the night. When James had first seen the darkening skies it was already late in the day. Now, they were fighting not only the rough seas but the fading light as well.

***

Jacob gazed out to the agitated sea from his seat at the top of a bluff, not too far away from the palm tree he and James had made use of. The bluff was perhaps thirty or so feet off the ground, but as the gathering storm came nearer to New Providence Jacob wondered if even at this height he might not be safe. He almost didn’t care.

He raised the rum decanter to his lips. The burn of it felt especially good and deserved today. It was exhausting, trying to stay mad at the man he’d recently come to care about. It was his own damn fault for his current predicament, and James had done nothing but try to help, even as he bull-headedly refused to acknowledge the fact that something more than the physical was developing between them.

Jacob sneered to himself. Another lover spurned by his impetuous and all-consuming addiction. The wind suddenly howled, the gust strong enough to send his unbuttoned vest flying back against the trees behind him. He squinted his eyes instinctively. Even with a slight buzz from the rum this was too much. Jacob rose and made his way back down to the town, yet there things were even more chaotic.

Everywhere people were hurrying off the streets. Vendors were scurrying to collect their wares and close up shop. Windows and doors were being nailed shut, and frightened children were trying to grab up their cats and dogs and chickens while their mothers shouted at them to come inside. Jacob walked along Main Street and towards the inn, keeping a close eye on his immediate surroundings. He had been through this once before on Hispaniola before a hurricane and knew that this was the prime time for pickpockets and thieves to have a go at panicked and oblivious townsfolk.

As Jacob thought about the hurricane on that island, however, something told him that this storm was shaping up to be an even greater monstrosity. The wind was howling constantly now, scattering parchment, food, hats, and anything else either too light or not tied down. As Jacob approached the inn he glanced out towards the beach, where he paused to watch several dozen pirates scrambling madly around to pull in the last of their cargo from their ships, the likes of which were now rocking back and forth madly on the water, like giant sea cows trying to dance to a shanty. The sight of the massive vessels seemingly so out of control was unsettling. And there, off to the left, was the giant Spanish man o’war, also rocking but not quite as badly as the other ships. Several sharp voices barked to one another in front of him. Jacob recognized several of James’s crew coming up the steps to reach the inn.

“He’s a mad dog, he is!” one of them was shouting over the wind. His companion grabbed him by the arm.

“You mean he ain’t coming in? I done told him, there’s no way we can move the ship. Water’s too fucking rough already.”

“I tried to get him to come. All three of us! But he got pissed and threw us off, told us all to forget about him and take shelter!”

“Bloody hell. The captain’s done lost his mind, he has! Come on.”

Jacob reached out and grabbed one of the men as they came up on the porch.

“Who are you talking about? Who’s gone mad?”

“Captain Flint, lad. You know ‘em,” said the pirate, recognizing Jacob. “Maybe you can get him to get his arse off the beach.”

Jacob looked back out onto the beach. The storm was nearly upon them, the clouds now the color of charcoal. What the hell was wrong with James? Jacob watched as the last of the men came up from the beach, running for shelter. Behind them the innkeeper yelled at them to come in or bugger off, hammer in hand to nail up the door. The two pirates looked sympathetically at Jacob.

“Now or never, lad. This thing looks like it was conjured up by Davy Jones hisself!”

With that last sentiment the two mates went inside the building. The innkeeper looked impatiently at Jacob. Jacob gritted his teeth and pounded a fist on the railing.

“Fucking hell.”

He took off towards the beach.

***

The tide was all but flying in over the beach, several feet higher since Jacob had been on the bluff. The amount it had risen was astounding. The sea was like a wild animal, swirling and churning and crashing into the ships in the harbor with malevolent intent. Jacob spotted James, madly trying to push a longboat back out into the water and towards his ship. Jacob ran into the rising tide after him. Once he was a few yards away he shouted James’s name at the top of his lungs over the wind and water. James turned around, though Jacob couldn’t discern his expression. He closed the gap between them even as James turned back around and kept walking.

“James! What the hell are you doing?”

Jacob struggled to grab on to the skiff. He simultaneously pulled himself towards James and pulled the boat away from him. James turned again, both hands clutching to the boat.

“Go back, Jacob,” he yelled. “I’ve got to move her!”

“Are you mad? You’ll fucking drown.”

“Get your ass inside, god damnit!”

James threw his arm up in an arch to usher Jacob away but the gesture was futile. The water was up to their knees as James jumped in the front of the boat. Jacob jumped in the back, nearly slipping on the wet wood. He half lunged, half crawled towards James, both hands gripping the sides of the skiff.

“James, don’t be a fool. You cannot do this alone, and it’s too fucking dangerous.”

James said something that Jacob figured was a curse. Sea water splashed high enough over them to drench Jacob. The water was also coming from above, and Jacob saw that it had started to rain, a heavy, thick rain. The drops were the size of pearls. No, that wasn’t quite right. A second glance told Jacob the rain was hail instead.

Jacob closed the distance between them as James took up the oars and began rowing. Round white balls of hail bounced all around them, stinging Jacob’s face and hands. He grabbed hold of one of the oars and jerked it out of James’s hand before he could react.

“What are you doing?” James roared at him, lunging for it.

“Trying to save you,” Jacob yelled back, throwing the oar into the water. With only one oar, propelling the small boat was all but useless, so Jacob was again astonished when James tried to do just that.

Jacob grabbed him by the tops of his shoulders and shook him until James looked at him.

“James, for the love of God, stop this! You’re going to drown.”

James looked at him, eyes nearly shut as he fought off the onslaught of rain and seawater. Jacob thought he saw something alight behind those eyes.

“You’re not going to drown out here,” said James. He dropped the oar and grabbed hold of Jacob’s arm. Jacob had no idea what James’s actual intentions were at that moment, but seeing advantage he pressed it and jumped off the boat, hauling James with him. It worked. James did not resist the action and instead travelled with it.

Together they landed in the ocean, far from the shore.

The shock of having no footing when he had fully expected it caused Jacob’s body to drop underwater before he started flailing his arms. James must have done the same, and for several seconds Jacob struggled to keep his head above water, coughing up the burn of the sea. He felt James’s fist gripping his shirt somewhere. After a few furious blinks Jacob made out James’s head bobbing in front of him.

“Come on,” shouted James as he began swimming towards the shore. Jacob did the same, at first thinking they could make it easily to land. However the sea had turned into something fierce and unpredictable, and Jacob had been around it and around seasoned sailors long enough to know that she was not behaving as usual. Instead the ocean’s currents had become churning chaos, pulling them in several directions at any given time and making it impossible to swim directly toward shore.

Fear began to creep steadily up Jacob’s spine as they both swam with all their might and yet seemed to be floating in place. His leg muscles began to burn first, then his arm muscles.

“We cannot make it!” he said.

“We will,” insisted James in-between mouthfuls of water. “Come on!”

With little choice Jacob struggled on, raising one limb and then the other. James did the same, until Jacob realized they were no longer trying to reach land but simply trying to stay afloat.

The storm must have been on top of them by then, or very nearly, because Jacob could barely make out the outlines of the great ships in the harbor. He struggled desperately to know if this was only because of the wind and rain or because the two of them had been swept hopelessly out of the harbor and were on their way to the open ocean. Jacob slowed down his swimming and looked to James. The fiery pillar that had always resided in his eyes—sometimes bright, sometimes dimmer—was almost gone, and though his limbs moved he looked like he’d already given up. That sent a sharper wave of fear through Jacob, and he felt it more keenly than he did the actual waves around him. A surge of adrenaline borne of a sudden desperation seized him and he swam around in circles, looking for something…

There, off to one side (he could not even recognize left from right) was something flat and blackish bobbing up and down in the water. Jacob knew it had to be wood from one of the ships. He spun himself back around with effort and grabbed a fistful of James, who turned his head towards him.

“Come on, this way.”

He didn’t know if James heard him or not but after Jacob gave two strong tugs on James's shirt his body came towards Jacob. Jacob began swimming towards the piece of wood. By some small miracle the two of them actually progressed through the water, though they still had to fight against the sinister and mad current.

The last few feet were the worst. The piece of wood, which Jacob now figured looked like part of a ship’s gunwale, plain and flat, kept bobbing just out of his reach. Already exhausted, Jacob fought to stay above water. His grip on James’s shirt slipped as he lunged for the wood, and he turned around only to see his head slip underwater. Jacob took a deep breath and pushed his body under, grabbed another fistful of cloth, and heaved it upward. The action exhausted him all over again, but James came up with him, still conscious. More importantly, they had come up right beside the piece of gunwale.

Jacob slung his free arm over it, gasping for breath. His lungs felt like they were on fire; a burning worse than any liquor could have given him. He pulled on James’s shirt but his arm screamed against it. However the other man seemed to find his second wind. His eyes opened fully and his arm came out of the water as he swam the last couple of feet to the planking. He threw his arms over beside Jacob’s, nearly out of breath.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he said.

With his ear almost flat against the wood Jacob heard James's words. They were ragged and choked. Jacob tried to speak but his throat and lungs burned too much so he scooted himself closer to James and grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him up further on the wood. It was the last thing he remembered doing.

 

Jacob woke up cold. He was shivering all over and his body ached. His eyes opened but there was only blackness. Fear surged through him as he remembered drowning…yet he was not dead. As his eyes adjusted the fear abated somewhat; he knew he was on solid ground, though he could hear the sound of the sea very close. He was lying down. He struggled to set up against the ache in his arms and legs. He felt dizzy and light-headed, still unable to make out much. He startled when a pair of hands began tugging at his shirt. He heard James's voice, telling him he would get sick if he stayed wet. Jacob weakly raised his arms and his shirt came off. The cold wind chilled his bare flesh even more. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest as a powerful dizzying sensation came over him, and he felt so tired he just wanted to sleep. So he lay back down and curled into himself, still shivering but not caring. What little sense was about him seemed to indicate he was out of immediate danger, and so he passed out.

When Jacob woke a second time he was still cold, but still on solid ground. Now he recognized wet sand underneath him. He lay on his side, and he was not alone. As a shiver passed through him he felt a body close beside him and against his back. It moved closer against him. Jacob felt legs against the back of his legs, along with hips, a stomach and chest. And there was an arm thrown over his own chest, under his arm. It squeezed him lightly. Jacob felt protected, and his mind wondered to the handful of times in his whole thirty-some year life that someone had made him feel that way. He snuggled up against the body, now realizing that the purpose of it must have been warmth.

***

The shouts woke Jacob up with a start.

“Huh!”

His body shot up into a sitting position as he opened his eyes, or tried to. They felt sewn shut. He raised fingers to them and found them covered with grainy sand that scratched his eyelids.

“Shit!”

Even speaking was not what he’d expected; his throat felt worse than his eyes. Jacob finally forced his eyes open and blinked. The shouts continued. It was James. The blackness around him was now replaced with sharp, bright sunlight, which Jacob was grateful for. As he slowly stood and regained his senses it became clear he and James were on a sandbar. It was perhaps twenty feet wide and he could not tell how long; he stood at one end of it and the other end stretched for at least fifty feet. His focus fell on James, however, who was waving his arms and shouting. Jacob turned to see what had his attention. He saw--with immense relief--that an island was across the way from the sandbar. Miraculously it couldn’t have been more than a mile in the distance—a hop, skip and jump away from where he stood. After another moment of clearing sand from his eyes Jacob realized that it was New Providence. The hurricane must have created the sandbar in its harbor.

James saw Jacob standing and quieted, quickly coming to him.

“Are you all right?”

Jacob slowly nodded. He looked down at himself for the first time, half afraid he would find limbs or other pieces of his body either mangled or missing. It was not so. Like James he wore only his trousers. James must have taken both their shirts and boots off, and suddenly James remembered how cold it had been…

James's hand was on his shoulder, sea green eyes scrutinizing him.

“It was a long night,” he said. “The damned storm left nothing but cold air in its wake. I was worried we’d freeze. Here.”

James turned and picked up Jacob’s shirt and boots, then pointed out at the section of ocean water between them and the island. A longboat was making its way towards them with two men inside, eagerly waving and pointing.

“Some of my men,” said James with what Jacob thought was the closest to a happy smile he’d yet to see on the captain’s face. Jacob shielded his eyes from the sun.

“Mr. Dooley, I see,” he said with a grin.

 

The boat plucked them off the sandbar and returned them safely to New Providence with no incident. New Providence, however, was something else.

Jacob had only recognized her from the shape of her shores and cliffs and the first few buildings that led into Main Street. These features stood amongst the other parts of civilization that were horribly altered by the hurricane. He and James, like most other people who were cautiously emerging out into the open, stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the destruction the sea storm had caused.

Palm trees were down everywhere, poking up from debris that littered the entire beach as far as the eye could see. As they made their way to Main Street it was worse. Whole buildings and smaller establishments were destroyed or nearly destroyed, and Jacob grimaced at the bodies he saw lying haphazardly on the ground, positioned as though a giant hand had flung them carelessly there.

For those men who believed in the wrath of the Almighty, he supposed that wasn’t far from the truth.

The buildings that remained in relatively decent condition were the tavern and brothel, and the irony of this did not escape those who stood in front of them.

“Looks like God needs his fixes too,” someone had jested. He got a few weak laughs at the bad joke. Most people, Jacob saw, where too shocked to jest. Cries eventually started up as men and women found the bodies of their loved ones and saw their homes destroyed.

Jacob stood next to James in the midst of it all, not sure what to do. Jacob realized then that James must not have had any family on the island. He looked at the pirate captain, and for once they both seemed to be in the exact same space—dazed, shocked, and at a loss for words.

Jacob did not know if most of it came from the chaos of the day or from their near-death experience of last night.

He figured it was a mixture of both. James racked a hand through his disheveled hair which clung to his face and hung down past his ears, out of its ponytail. Despite everything Jacob found himself finding the look very attractive. He could only assume his hair was much worse. He brushed it off his face and looked toward the tavern.

“Well if there’s a chance of finding something to eat, I’d wager it would be in there.”

James readily agreed. Sure enough the first floor of the tavern was swamped with bodies at the tables and the bar, and the wounded lay on the floor, staircase, and the balcony above.

Whores and barmaids ran around frantically attending the injured and hungry. Jacob and James managed to find a space to sit against the wall and eventually both got bowls of soup, which was the only thing available that was quick and easy to make. They ate it heartily.

Jacob stripped a wool blanket off a man who had died next to them, along with his shirt and handed it to James. They wrapped themselves up in the blanket and nodded in and out of sleep for the next several hours. James had begun rambling on softly about the work that needed to be done, that he needed to find his ship and crew and begin repairs but Jacob knew he was half out of his wits with exhaustion because Jacob could barely think about anything himself.

It was sometime that afternoon that they emerged from the tavern with enough wits and energy to finally think coherently.

“We’ve got to help clear these bodies out,” said James.

Jacob nodded. The dead were already attracting flies and mosquitoes, and both men knew that such insects could breed disaster for the living if allowed to. There were also plenty of dogs on the island, both friendly and feral, and they had begun taking an interest in the dead meat as well.

The job was dirty and caused Jacob’s stomach to heave on several occasions, but after a couple of hours more men chipped in to help with this particular clean up. They moved the bodies in a pile on the beach to burn them. There was no plausible way to allow them to lie there long enough while loved ones came to identify all of them, but still they decided to wait until the morning to light the match.

 

When the day was done Jacob was exhausted all over again. Before calling it a day however James insisted they scour the harbor for his ship. The man o’war, as it turned out, was still intact. She had been pulled an impressive distance from where she’d been anchored, but once James saw that she was still afloat he had breathed a sigh of relief. Jacob saw his whole body seemed to lighten with a lifted weight.

As the sun reached the tree tops late that afternoon Jacob bemoaned his immediate concerns to James.

“I’ve got not a single coin to my name, not even enough for a room. Looks like I’ll be sleeping with the wild things tonight.”

“I’ve got a place,” said James, looking off into the jungle. It was one of those moments Jacob suspected the other man was avoiding eye contact.

Jacob raised a brow. “You mean a house? Here?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. He had always assumed that Captain Flint, like most pirates, roomed in their ship.

James nodded. “Assuming the hurricane didn’t destroy it. It’s not far. That road there from Main Street; it turns into a dirt road. The house is at the end of it. Come on.”

 

I only see myself reflected in your eyes  
so all that I believe I am essentially are lies  
and everything I've hoped to be or ever thought I was  
died with your belief in me so who the hell am I?

\--Stabbing Westward, “Shame”

 

The house was indeed still standing and mostly untouched by the storm. There were many felled trees around it and some damage to the roof but it was mostly intact. James said he figured by the time the storm had reached this part of the island it had weakened and had thus spared most of the interior.

The house was more or less typical of the architecture of the southern colonies, nestled in a cleared-out chunk of wooded space that was not quite jungle but more like the forests Jacob had seen in other parts of the New World. Jacob tethered his horse to a wooden post beside James's. He unfastened two satchel bags and carried them in with him—all his belongings in this world.

“Try not to swallow any flies,” James said dryly, referring to Jacob’s slightly open mouth.

Jacob shut it. “It’s just…I always assumed all pirates live on their ships,” he said as James led them inside.

“Most do,” said James. “The house…wasn’t mine.”

He stumbled over the words and Jacob looked at him. James ignored the question in his eyes and instead showed him down the hall and to a guest bedroom.

“You can sleep here tonight,” said James.

The room was quaint and sparsely furnished but neat and tidy. Jacob nodded, setting down his satchels.

“Thank you. You’ve no idea how grateful I am.”

James's eyes caught his for an instant before turning away, almost bashfully. James turned to leave, but Jacob snatched a hold of his arm.

“Wait. It’s barely dark out…”

“There’s dinner to be made, and besides, I’m sure you’ll want to settle in…”

“That can all wait. And I’ll say it again: Thank you, truly.”

James seemed to squirm under such gratitude but managed a ‘you’re welcome’ just the same.

Jacob’s hand lingered over James's arm. He took a deep breath, deciding that now was as good a time as any to broach the subject he’d been thinking about all day.

“So, in regards to us—“

“Stop,” said James. He lowered his arm almost carefully out of the blonde’s touch. “I need you to know something,” said James, sitting down on the trunk at the foot of the bed. He took off his coat and laid it beside him, running his hands over his face. The action caused Jacob’s heart to beat faster. He swallowed, uncertain.

James licked his lips. When he looked back up, the mask had fallen away and Jacob was left staring into the deep sea, where it was constantly churning just underneath the surface.

“I don’t know if I can be in a relationship again,” he started. “It’s been a long time, and a lot has changed since then. I only hope you’re not expecting too much from me.”

He paused, wanting Jacob to respond. Jacob sat down beside him, looking straight ahead as he thought. It was far easier to do so when he couldn’t see James's ruggedly handsome face and those eyes.

“So you do want something more than sex?” he asked at last.

James stared down at his hands.

“Yes.”

Jacob thought of half a dozen smartass retorts to that answer; he felt some anger that James couldn’t have just fucking said so earlier. Still, it was clear now that James was warring with himself—had been ever since they had started seeing one another—although Jacob couldn’t begin to guess over what.

Despite those thoughts Jacob was relieved. Now the question that had been burning on his lips for weeks finally came out.

“I need to know, then, why do you hold yourself back?”

Now he did look up at James. James searched his palm again as though the answer would come from it. Jacob watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Out of necessity,” he replied. “I can’t risk…myself, with just anyone. I won’t. It’s why I wouldn’t kiss you.”

He looked at Jacob and Jacob stared hard at him, trying desperately to decipher this cryptic response even though he knew it was more than James had ever given him. He could only make a connection with himself and his own past.

“You’ve lost someone,” he said softly. “Someone you cared about a great deal.”

James nodded.

“Did you share this house with them?”

James opened his mouth and shut it. He chuckled. It sounded melancholy to Jacob.

“Yes and no. It’s a long story. One perhaps better suited for a rainy night.”

Jacob heard the finality in his tone and knew that he would not say anything more about the matter tonight. That was just fine with Jacob, because he was just as curious about something else now. He turned so that he faced James on the chest, their knees touching. He put his hand on the top of James's shoulder, licking his lips. James turned and looked at him. For a moment Jacob saw the Jackdaw there, ready to take flight any second, but the look faded and instead James leaned in and kissed him.

Shock jolted through Jacob’s mind even as a shock of a much more pleasurable kind went straight to his groin.

Jacob opened his lips and let more of him in, savoring the salty taste he found there. He breathed in James’s scent, which was the sea air and rain and something else that was completely and only James. James raised his hand to Jacob’s collarbone and slipped his palm underneath Jacob’s shirt, rubbing his skin. Jacob hummed softly in his throat. His hand came up to James's leg and moved slowly to rest on his thigh.

Jacob kept James's attention on his lips. James quickly proved to be an excellent kisser and Jacob simply wasn’t ready to quit tasting those lips. James's tongue expertly danced around his own, sliding over the roof of his mouth and then pulling out to flick over Jacob’s lips. Jacob sighed and moaned, pulling on the nape of James's neck to encourage him.

Jacob didn’t know how long they remained like that, simply enjoying the easy touch and taste. He was acutely aware, however, of the growing bulge in his trousers. He tentatively moved his hand further up James's thigh and to his crotch—and moaned. James was fully erect, trousers stretched out to contain the bulge that Jacob traced down his leg.

James broke away from kissing and moved to stand. He fiddled with his trousers in his usual straight-to-business approach but Jacob grabbed him and pulled him back on the trunk.

“No. Let’s take it slow,” he said.

The Jackdaw look returned, its confidence faltering. Jacob pressed his lips back to James's and felt his way back to James's crotch, where he undid the buttons there and snaked his hand in, gently touching.

James moaned loudly, grabbing at both sides of Jacob’s face but Jacob continued his pace without faltering. He savored the feeling of James's tongue and cock. He continued massaging the stiff member until James was all but grinding up against his knees and forcing his tongue deep inside Jacob’s mouth. Sharp jolts of pleasure washed over Jacob at his eagerness but still he took his time, slapping away James's attempts at unclothing him.

“Patience,” he said with a smug grin in-between kisses.

“Damn patience,” said James breathlessly.

“Not this time,” said Jacob. He pulled out James's cock and stroked it slowly, pulling hard on the head. Precum dribbled from the slit. James moaned again. Jacob let him break away from kissing to look down at Jacob’s machinations. James thrusted his hips up into Jacob’s grasp. Jacob’s mouth went dry. He stopped stroking James and stood up. He placed a palm flat against James's chest so he wouldn’t follow. James watched him, eyes now half lidded, as Jacob made a show once again of taking off his clothes.

“Such a fucking tease,” James breathed out. He leaned back on the trunk and stroked his cock. Jacob stared down at it, wondering how anything could ever look more delicious than the sight of James Flint pulling on his swollen, rock-hard cock in front of him.

“You know you like it,” Jacob replied as he pulled his shirt over his head in one long, languid motion and flung it to the floor. He unbuttoned his trousers and rubbed his crotch. James followed his every move. Jacob came over and straddled him on the trunk. James shuffled backwards against the foot of the bed as Jacob planted his knees on either side of James's half-bare legs. He pressed his erection into the captain’s so that James’s cock was against his own stomach.

“Fuck,” mumbled James. His hands shot up to grab Jacob’s face again. Jacob let him pull him into another session of kisses. They were messier and wetter this time. Jacob once again forced James to slow the pace, pulling away and then kissing him slower. This time James seemed to accept it, fingers running through Jacob’s hair and gently pulling out the ponytail so that his long, curly locks draped down over his shoulders. James pulled back to look at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in a raspy voice.

The words caused Jacob’s heart to beat faster. He felt his skin grow hot. He grinded his crotch against James a few more times for good measure before standing and taking off his pants. James remained sitting, drinking in the sight of Jacob’s body. Jacob grinned at him, pulling on his own cock. He stretched out his other hand and offered it to James, who took it. He stood and pressed himself against Jacob’s body, kissing him.

“Let me make love to you,” said Jacob.

James broke away from him. The distance he suddenly put between them left Jacob cold. Jacob’s heart sunk. He’d known it was a bold thing to say but he had to. James needed this; needed it badly, he thought.

“Don’t pull away, please.”

Jacob closed the gap between them again until James's hot body was against his own.

“It’s been a long time,” said James. Jacob heard the tremor in his voice, knew that the pirate captain was trying with all his strength to keep his wall up. Jacob pictured the emotional distance between them as just that—a wall that had once been impenetrable and was now cracking. Jacob was determined to bring it down completely.

“I’ll guide you,” Jacob replied. “Come here.”

Jacob crossed the room to a blue and plush-looking divan that was big enough to stretch out on. He put his back up against it, one leg crooked at the knee and beckoned to James. James came to him and sat down gingerly as his confidence left him, even though he still looked at Jacob with wanting in his gray-green eyes.

“You’re gorgeous like this, you know,” Jacob found himself saying. He almost blushed at his own words. He was not one for such sentimental talk but for some reason James brought it out of him. It seemed to help James. He gave Jacob a lop-sided grin under his moustache. Jacob motioned for him to lie down.

James lay in front of him and Jacob used his hands to gently urge him to shift accordingly, until Jacob’s cock was behind James's ass. He had already taken the vial of oil from his belongings and now he rubbed it over his fingers and into the cleft of James's ass.

“Unhh…”

James moaned. He pulled his cheeks apart eagerly as Jacob slicked him down, then eased his fingers inside of James. James inhaled sharply, his muscles contracting around Jacob’s fingers. Another wave of heat washed over the blonde. He was desperate to know what this was going to be like, but he kept up the same measured pace with this part as he had with everything else so far.

James squirmed against him, twisting to look at him. Jacob settled down more comfortably behind him, fingers still working him as he leaned over to kiss James. James kissed him almost frantically.

“Do you want me?” Jacob asked in a whisper.

“Yes, God, yes,” said James. That went straight to Jacob’s balls. He wiggled his fingers inside James, hooking them and getting another verbal moan from the captain.

***

James moaned out loud as Jacob’s fingers worked their magic. He was hot all over, hot in a way he had not felt with anyone in ten years. And Jacob knew what he was doing; there was no doubt in James's mind. James had simply fucked him before, up against that tree. It was what he was used to and it always worked—the easiest way to get off without any attachments. In fact, by the time he had met Jacob Lewis, James had thought himself numb to truly caring about someone else.

He had accepted that idea easily—too easily, it now seemed—and had let it overtake him. He was convinced the rest of his life was to be made up of quick and convenient fucks in darkened corners. The life he’d had before was an anomaly; as James McGraw he had suspected as much—but had been convinced otherwise. He’d been convinced that he could love another man with no consequences, that everything would work itself out. In the years since then he had thought himself right in the first place, that such thoughts were an illusion. Even here, as a pirate, where it was commonplace for men to have dalliances with other men, true relationships were scoffed at.

And so he had resigned himself to his fate, that no matter how feared or renowned or wealthy a pirate he might become, he would always be alone.

The thought of all that changing terrified him in a way he couldn’t fully comprehend.

Even now, under the spell of lust that Jacob was casting over him James felt afraid, afraid of losing what was needed to make up Captain Flint. Yet he couldn’t think on it long. Jacob pulled out his fingers.

“Scoot just a little,” he said softly to James, hand pushing against the small of his back. James pushed his lower half out toward the edge of the couch as Jacob positioned himself. James abandoned all other thoughts as he felt the head of Jacob’s cock push into him. James gritted his teeth, his muscles contracting as Jacob very gently pushed the rest of the way in. He pushed with more care than James had shown so many men…

James's heart beat faster as Jacob pulled out and pushed in again, cock slick with oil. After two more times he slid into James with ease, and James's entire body seemed to melt into the contact. Jacob thrusted very slowly, a hand coming up to caress James's hip. James moved in time with Jacob’s thrusts, moaning. This felt so good; he’d nearly forgotten how to feel like this. Jacob’s hot breath came to his ear. James shuddered as Jacob nibbled at it, licking behind his earlobe.

“Jacob,” James called out, helplessly.

“Mmm,” said Jacob, not breaking rhythm as his tongue roamed around James's ear and neck. James closed his eyes, thrusting in time with Jacob’s cock as its hot girth filled him up. Then Jacob shifted slightly until he was hitting James's spot, and James thought he might die from the touch.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled softly, mouth dry. He parted his lips, panting now as Jacob’s mouth found his and captured it eagerly. James lifted his leg higher and grabbed his cock, which was absolutely throbbing now and slick with precum. Jacob wrapped an arm around James's lifted leg and used it like a brace to thrust into him.

James found himself in such a harmony with Jacob it was like listening to the most flawless and beautiful song he’d ever heard, so perfect you could picture it physically in your head and you knew exactly what came next.

Jacob’s cock moved swiftly inside him now as James heard Jacob’s own breathing become ragged. James pulled faster on his cock, moaning. Jacob watched him, up on his elbow now as he thrusted, fingers digging into James's thigh.

They dug and pressed and fucked into each other, moving faster and faster. Sweat glistened over James's body as he pulled at himself, gritting his teeth.

“Christ,” he heard Jacob mutter at his ear, voice strained with effort as he now slammed into James up to his balls. James was nearly there. He jerked himself hard, head falling back on the couch as his chest expanded and the moment came upon him. He looked back down again as cum shot out of him.

“Ohh fuck,” grunted Jacob, slamming himself up against James's ass until James felt him come. Jacob let out a long, low moan, and James pressed himself as far into Jacob’s cock as he could. James felt him collapse behind him. After another moment James moved to get up without thinking.

“No!”

It came out graveled and raspy but also demanding.

Jacob’s arm shot out and wrapped around him before he could rise and break their contact.

And James found he was grateful for it. He lay there panting, muscles relaxing once more. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to move at all, in fact. Jacob was still inside him, and James wanted that, too, wanted to keep the feeling alive even though Jacob was limp and they were both spent.

Gradually Jacob pulled out of him and they both maneuvered into more comfortable positions, but Jacob’s cry of protest had been plenty for the pirate captain, who stayed snuggled up next to the blonde.

Then something swelled inside James's chest and he felt his eyes tear up.

“Shit.”

He wiped roughly at his eyes and swallowed hard. His cheeks were flushed red and he didn’t want Jacob to see his face. And then he remembered, he knew, what the feeling was, and he hated it. He felt Jacob press against him, felt his eyes questioning.

“What?” Came the soft question.

This time James didn’t bother suppressing anything.

“Why?” James said through gritted teeth. “Why the fuck am I so ashamed?”

“You needn’t be. Not with me.”

The words sent him reeling. They so closely resembled words from another man it gave James goosebumps. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled Jacob’s arm over his ribs, twining their fingers together.

“Sleep with me?” he asked.

Jacob smiled. They left the divan for the more comfortable and spacious bed. At first they both sprawled out, but as James drifted in and out of sleep for the first few hours he cooled off and found himself curling up next to Jacob. Jacob turned on his side so that he was facing James. James barely opened an eye to see Jacob asleep, face as peaceful as he’d ever seen it, with all the worry lines of the day gone.

James fell fast asleep.

 

“…And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and then there was light. And He saw that it was good, and He separated the land from the water, and He called the water the Seas. And He said, ‘Let the sea bring forth life abundantly.’ And He blessed it, and He said that it was good. And He formed man of the dust of the ground and breathed life into his nostrils and man became a living soul. And He beheld all He had created, and He said it was very good. But the Lord beheld the man made in his likeness and He beheld his solitude and He said, ‘It is not good that he is alone.’ And the moral of the story everybody needs a partner.”

Thomas turned away from the rain covered widow, smiling. James was smiling, too, half amused and half intrigued…

Thomas laid the book down on the floor beside James's bed. He leaned back, tucking his hands behind his head. James looked down at the skin exposed down to his navel between the light cotton shirt he wore. He leaned in close to Thomas and let his fingers dance along the flesh, down to his navel and then back up again to his nipples. Thomas sighed. James felt his eyes watching him, questioning but knowing he would let James speak his mind when he was ready.

“That day in your study. You said everybody needs a partner,” said James. “You would have me believe you were speaking about political partnerships. But you were not. How is it you can be so bold? Were you not afraid of offending me? Of me leaving then and there?”

Thomas pulled on James's wrist until he slid down over the mattress onto his elbow next to Thomas and Thomas looked at him evenly.

“Of course I was. But it’s better take the risk than to never know. And thank God I risked it for you.”

James's eyes shot open. He let out a breath and took several deep ones. He felt trapped, as though he were suffocating. He sat up and saw he was covered in a layer of sweat. He squeezed his eyes shut until they hurt. That one had been vivid, much too vivid.

James fought against the feeling that threatened to rise from the ashes in his chest. He took more deep breaths, glancing over at the slumbering form beside him. Jacob stirred but didn’t wake. James flung off the covers and left the bed. He walked out of the room, carefully shutting the door. He went into the living room and collapsed on the floor against the wall. He put his head in his hands, fighting away the dream with all his might. The problem was the images were engrained not just in his mind but into his very soul. His heart ached.

“Fuck, Thomas,” he muttered out loud, clenching his teeth. Yet the more he pushed for control the more out of control he felt. Shortness of breath and a light-headedness—a panic attack was what the doctors had started calling it. It had happened to him only once before, the day his life had fallen apart around him.

And as he fought for control, hand clutching at his chest, he remember that day so many years ago, of standing there in his royal navy blue and listening to his superior tell him that he’d lost his livelihood, that what he had done was profane and loathsome. The words had split into him like an axe, that he and Thomas could be seen as profane. A deep and abysmal anger had followed. Anger and shame.

Anger and shame flooded his senses again. James rose and made for the front door, snatching his belt and its contents off the table as he passed by. He ran out into the deep and abysmal night.

 

Jacob turned over and gradually awoke from a deep sleep. He flung his right arm out over the bed and realized something was off. He fought the sensation of waking up; he was so comfortable and his mind was like a thick fog. Yet the unsettling sensation of something not quite right didn’t leave and he eventually peeled open his eyes. His arm touched only bed sheets—the other side was cold and empty.

Jacob lifted himself up on his elbows

“James?” he croaked out. Most likely he’d gotten up to relieve himself, Jacob thought. So he lay back down and turned toward the door and shut his eyes. When long minutes had passed and James did not return Jacob sat up again, now more alert. He flung off the sheets and put his feet on the cold floor.

There was no one in the living room or the rest of the house. Surely he was just outside. Jacob went out the front door. His eyes had already adjusted to the dark, and the light from the half moon and stars dimly illuminated the porch, the tethered horses and some of the dirt path. Jacob came outside, a rising panic beginning to take hold.

“James?” he shouted, shattering the peace of the otherwise still night. He stepped out onto the path, looking around in a circle but he saw no trace of the pirate captain. Then something caught his eye in the grass; a foreign object. Jacob crossed the yard and picked it up. It was James's coin pouch.

The creeping panic sent his heart pounding. What on earth could have made him leave the house at this hour? And to so carelessly drop his coin pouch…that was not like James at all. Perhaps one of his crew had an emergency, or perhaps there had been more pickpockets from town looking to loot the house after the hurricane and James had heard them, had tried to chase them off…

Jacob tried to force himself to believe in these possibilities as he picked up the coin pouch and started off in the direction he supposed James had gone. He cut through the grass and past a corn field and into the woods. He had no clue where he was but after a few minutes he came to a wide river. From the smell of it he figured it to be brackish water that fed into the ocean proper at some point.

“James? Where the bloody hell are you?” he shouted. He peered downstream, but there was an impenetrable mass of reeds there so instead he worked his way upriver where there was a worn animal path.

It led into a clearing next to the ocean and there sat James.

He sat behind a waterlogged and mostly ruined desk, one half of its legs buried in the sand and the other half jutting up at an angle. Clearly the hurricane had somehow pushed it here. As bizarre as it was Jacob was much more interested in the man sitting behind it. The only thing on the desk top was James's pistol. His fingers were curled around the butt, index finger resting behind the trigger.

The tired and lackluster look in his eyes seemed to carry over into his whole body, and Jacob was suddenly very, very afraid. He swallowed hard and slowly approached.

James did little more than raise his eyes as Jacob came toward him, hand not moving from the pistol. He was slouched forward, and Jacob saw he was sitting on a rum barrel. The closer he got the more wary James looked. He stopped a few feet in front of the desk.

“James.”

The clearing allowed the moonlight full access down upon him, and Jacob saw his eyes were red-rimmed and moist despite the complete look of carelessness on his face. James sighed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

“I see that,” Jacob said evenly. “Mind telling me what has you troubled? You scared me half to death.”

“It’s a long and sad story,” said James in a gravel voice, as though he’d been crying for some time. “And it’s time it came to an end.”

His fingers flexed over the pistol. Jacob’s heart leapt to his throat.

“Whoa. Okay. I’d like for you to tell me. Please?”

Jacob’s eyes pleaded with James's but James wasn’t looking at him. He was fixated on the pistol. Long, gut-wrenching moments passed and Jacob was about to say something more when James finally responded. His voice was long and drawn out.

“Very well. I suppose you deserve to know. You guessed earlier that I had lost someone, someone who was very dear to me. It was the manner in which I lost him that’s caused me so much…grief.”

James swallowed. Jacob thought he looked as though he might crumple under some invisible force oppressing him, a force that even the feared and ruthless Captain Flint could not contend with. Jacob was desperate to rush over and take him up in his arms, but instead he steeled himself and waited patiently.

“You asked me if I were mad when I went after the man o’war last night,” he continued. Jacob was thrown off by this abrupt change in topic. He waited.

“My men have all thought me mad at some point or another,” he chuckled out bitterly. “That ship was all I had left, the only thing…until you.”

James's eyes flashed up to him for a brief moment.

“Madness,” he said. “Did you know they commit people to mental hospitals for all manner of ridiculous reasons other than true madness? If you stayed sorrowful, if you were guilty of adultery, or if you had a bad temperament. Christ, even if you have a fidgeting problem or a restless leg or a fucking mad relative, they could commit you just in case. It happens all the time. Thomas was committed for such a reason.”

Jacob watched as James's fingers left the pistol and came to rest beside it. He sighed heavily and stared down at it. Again Jacob fought the urge to go to him. He sensed James was on a precipice, and that one wrong move might send him over so instead he remained still and held on to every word. When James said nothing more Jacob prodded him.

“Thomas?” he asked softly. James blinked and seemed to come back from wherever he’d gone while he stared down at the pistol.

“Yes, Thomas. I loved him and he loved me. The house belonged to Miranda, his wife. The three of us, we…had an understanding. I loved her too. She died not six months ago. And he….died ten years ago, locked up in an asylum by his father for no other reason… than loving me.”

Tears streamed silently down his face, the liquid glinting white under the moon.

“It cost me everything—my career in the navy, my home, my life, our fucking lives. And I loved him more than anything in this world.”

James clenched his teeth together, anger bringing him back to life if only for a few moments before dissolving away. To Jacob it seemed as if his body could no longer spend the energy it took to maintain the emotion he had come to know as a part of the man.

Jacob very deliberately took a few steps forward. He squatted down in front of the desk so that he was eye level with James, who watched him wearily with red eyes.

“Tell me more,” Jacob said softly.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know. Because I care about you.”

Another bitter chuckle.

“You’re better off not caring. I can’t even keep my promise to him, to know no shame. I’m no good for you, Jacob.”

“That is…a load of crap. And let me tell you why, if you’ll permit me.”

James looked up at him and shrugged. He threw up his arms.

“Fine. Tell me. Nothing you can say will make a difference.”

Jacob eyed him, licking his lips as he thought a moment. He rose and scooted up into a sitting position on the top of the lop-sided desk.

He was careful not to disturb the pistol, which James had clutched around his fingers again.

Jacob made himself as comfortable as he could, feeling his anxiety mount as he considered where to begin and how to tell his story to James in order to convince him not to blow his brains out.

“I want to tell you about my father,” he began at length. “Since I was a small boy he and I always had the best of relationships. I saw how the fathers of my school companions often treated their sons, as if their only purpose in life was to carry on the family name. But my father was different. He spent time with me, played with me, taught me things. He punished me with the willow stick like any other father, but for the most part I was a good son.

In my sixteenth year I met a boy a few years older than me name Philip. Philip and his family were, of course, from France and had been in England for less than a year. I was versed in some French and so both our parents thought it a wonderful idea if I would school Philip in English. You must understand the effect Philip had on me. He was gorgeous. Bright green eyes, full lips, and the most elegant nose. He had a way with me; he always made me laugh, even when his French tangled up with his English and I couldn’t understand a damn thing he said. That made us both laugh harder. He was like a rare, one-of- a- kind gift to me, someone who understood me in all things.

I thought I had fallen in love with him. Looking back I realize now it wasn’t true love, but instead that first-time, adolescent love we all experience in some form or another I suppose. Philip shared my feelings. He was the first boy I had a fancy for who fancied me back in that way. I remember feeling so damn gratified that I wasn’t the only boy who liked other boys. I felt normal again.

Still, Philip and I knew what the world thought of sodomites, even at that age, and so we hid ourselves. Eight months passed without incident, and I was completely smitten with him. My father and I were still close, and I went along with his and mother’s attempts at finding me a wife.

Then one day, not long after my seventeenth year began, I grew bold and had Philip sneak into my bed chamber at night. It was supposed to be for just a few hours; I’d already lost my virginity to him, by the way. So we fooled around and made love and had the best time of it. Long story short, we stayed up far too late and fell asleep.

I was awakened the next morning by the booming voice of my father, who only made that particular sound when he was very angry. I remember sitting up in bed, naked, with Philip petrified beside me. I had never seen my father so incensed before—he was like a monster to me, face red and hate covering his face. He picked up the loaded rifle I had against the wall and shot Philip square in the chest.”

Jacob stopped as his throat became tight. A quick glance at James was almost too much. James was watching him intently, brows knotted in concern and shock.

Jacob swallowed hard, eyes blurring. He was glad to see he had managed to capture the other man’s attention and steer him away from thoughts of the pistol. Now, however, James drifted far away from him as memories swelled and swirled in his head, too sharp for his liking.

But he forced himself to continue nevertheless.

“Blood and other things splattered all over me and the bed, and I remember screaming uncontrollably as Philip slumped down beside me, dead. I remember turning my screams towards my father, but my father had turned into something else in that moment. I ran towards him, beating my fists against him, and he did something he had never, ever done to me before. He grabbed me by my bare arms and slammed me up against the wall. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes, the rage there. It died quickly and he never did strike me, but after that it didn’t matter. He and I were never the same after that. I hated him.

It wasn’t long after that I played my first game of dice. I was a mess after Philip, and neither my mother nor my friends could console me. I took to staying away from home as much as possible and fell in with drunks and gamblers. That first game was amazing. For the first time I found something with which to hold my attention and get me to thinking about something other than Philip and my father. I won nearly every round that night. Beginner’s luck they called it, as you know. But luck or no I felt like I had finally found my calling. I could gamble, and I was good at it. Until I lost, of course, but it didn’t matter. So desperate was I to forget Philip and my father I gambled constantly, until I became the way I am now.

It caused even more of a schism between my father and I, and when I was twenty I left home for good. I’ve never spoken to him since. He could be dead by now, dead and gone like Philip.”

Jacob stopped, letting out a shaking breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried desperately to get control of himself. Damnit, he hadn’t meant to fall apart too.

After a moment he finally looked up to James. James was watching him steadily.

Jacob slid off the desk, wiping at his face. He felt drained but still managed to sound angry when he spoke.

“So for what it’s worth,” he said, “You are not the only one who feels this way. I might not have loved Philip the way you clearly loved Thomas, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them win by ending my own life. Fuck them, and fuck that.”

Jacob felt a hard determination fill him up, a determination and a need that overpowered his caution. He gritted his teeth together and leaned over the desk to look at James.

“And I fucking care about you. I want us to be something, no matter what it is. There’s more than just a spark here, there’s a flame. So if you still want to shoot yourself in the head then just let me walk away first.”

Jacob’s voice cracked. He was shocked at the bluntness of his own words, but he could not disguise the resentment he now felt at the idea of James actually killing himself and leaving Jacob alone on this godforsaken island with no hope of a life.

Whatever emotional wall James had was gone, obliterated sometime between their loving embraces last night and the chaos of tonight. Jacob looked down at the pistol and back up to James, trying once again to read the emotions behind the face.

James parted his lips but no words came out. He looked down again at the pistol. Jacob slowly turned and began walking away. The night was nearly over and the sun was just touching the tree tops. For long moments his heart thudded in his ears as he waited to hear the gunshot. He did hear a sound but not from the pistol.

“Jacob!”

Jacob turned to see James rushing after him, no pistol in hand. They stared into one another’s eyes before James wrapped his hand around Jacob’s neck and pulled him into a soft and deep kiss. Jacob hummed, his body sagging with relief.

“I don’t want to lose you,” said James. His voice sounded grounded to Jacob; the Jackdaw was getting brave, flapping its wings not to take flight but to show strength.

Jacob could only smile at him, hoping his joy shone in his eyes. It must have because James looked down to bashfully hide his own toothy grin—and in that moment Jacob would have sworn that he saw a different man there. He’d never known James in that previous life but something in his gut told him that man was not gone forever.

As the sky above them turned gray and further illuminated their surroundings in a cool glow Jacob saw with a start where he was. He did, in fact, recognize this place.

“What is it?” asked James.

Jacob led them over to the marshy reeds he had thought impenetrable the night before. He’d come here from the other side, he realized, where an animal path cut through the reeds and led to a small space of beach. The water there was crystal clear when the sun shone over it.

“Here,” he said, leading the way to the beach and pointing out to the water.

“There’s a reef here. Water’s fucking perfect for seeing what’s underneath. This is where I caught the sea turtle for Dooley.”

James followed his gaze and walked to the shore line as the sun’s rays finally hit the ocean’s surface and set it ablaze. Jacob stood beside him.

“Would you like to know how I did it?”

James turned to him.

“Tell me,” he said.***

 

END.


End file.
